


Run ('Til Your Pain's Through)

by MikeWritesThings



Series: i'll follow you [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Eventual Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Loba Andrade/Bangalore | Anita Williams, Strained Relationships, Touch-Starved Crypto | Park Tae Joon, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: There was no easy way out. Octavio had been given two options, and that was it.Take responsibility and come back to Taejoon and the kid, or run away from the choices he'd made.Like he always did.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva, Lifeline | Ajay Che & Octane | Octavio Silva
Series: i'll follow you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083647
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said this would be a one shot but this was getting very long and it only touched on like 2 of the things i wanted it to so. 3 chapters is the goal but hopefully i can finish it in 2 sowwy
> 
> tws: weight mention and implied self-harm

Octavio was sleeping too much.

That's what Anita said. She started complaining about it after the first couple of days, saying that he didn’t have an excuse beyond that timeframe to be sleepy all the time. He agreed with her, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything else. Not even to eat or to do the things he normally enjoyed doing, like play video games.

All he _could_ do was lie around and think, and he didn't _want_ to think, so sleep it was.

"You need to move," Anita had said at one point. He peeled his eyes open long enough to glare up at her, voice lost, before she trudged out. He should probably be nicer to her, considering the fact that he was her guest, but he was just...

Tired.

All the time.

The first five or so days away from Taejoon were all painted into one expressionism-esque blur in his mind; grays and dark blues that clung together and mixed until it was nearly incomprehensible. He didn’t remember much of what he did during those days, just knew that he felt like shit throughout them.

Probably just slept the whole time and snapped at Anita and tried not to feel like he'd just ruined his own life, even though he most definitely had. He was an expert at doing that.

Day six hit and that was when his brain started being loud, wouldn’t shut the fuck up about every single wrong thing he’d done in the past year or so. Octavio wasn’t usually one to ponder or reflect on his decisions, but all of the nasty things he’d said nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that he was a grade-A jackass, which was a label he normally reserved for his father and his father alone.

He wasn't that different from his father now, though. He'd been right about that.

Anita’s house wasn’t really that big. It was two stories but narrow, and he learned later on that it was like, a townhouse or something, and she technically shared one house with a person who lived on the other side of it. Sometimes at night Octavio would press his ear to the wall and listen closely, trying to get a glimpse of some complete stranger’s life in the hopes that it was better than his.

He never heard anything.

At the end of week one, he was eating the dinner Anita had ordered for the two of them when she set her fork down and gave him a look. She was big on eating at the table, so he could never escape her during dinner time. He kept poking at his Kung Pao chicken and didn’t say anything, just tried not to make eye contact with her to avoid the inevitable talk she was about to give him.

After five minutes of a long, stifling silence, Anita began with, “Silva.”

“Williams,” he said back. Her nostrils flared a little, annoyed, but she kept talking like he hadn't said anything.

“It’s been a week. You can’t keep hunkering down here.”

“Why not?” Octavio asked, stabbing one of his chopsticks through a piece of chicken. Maybe he could make a sort of kebab with it. “I’m paying you.”

“I have a _life_. I took a week off for you, but tomorrow I’m going back. And I _don’t_ want you to be here alone.” She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder, which he tried to shrug off, but she was really stubborn.

"Why don't you want me here by myself?" He asked, ignoring what she'd said about taking a week off for him, because he knew she was trying to make him feel guilty. He's played this game before. "I'm not gonna blow this place up."

"I'm more worried about you being _alone_."

Octavio's eyes narrowed. He let his chopsticks drop onto his plate. "Why?"

_Say it. I dare you._

She didn't. Instead, she just said firmly, “Go home.”

“I don’t have one,” he replied.

“Go back to Kim’s, then.”

“He’ll kick me out.”

“He won’t.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“You’re just making excuses.” Anita gave him a pointed look. “And you haven’t even _spoken_ to him.”

That was true. He wasn’t going to keep talking about this, though, so instead he just pitched his voice into something teasing and glanced back at her, saying, “ _You_ just wanna see Loba, don't you?"

She took the bait, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Mind your own business."

After dinner he went up to his room. Well, it wasn’t _his_ room. Just a storage room with a sleeping bag in it. Anita had been using it to store up extra boxes since a lot of her stuff had remained unpacked because ‘ _we never stay long, anyway’_.

Which was true. It made him feel really stupid about the whole penthouse situation; he’d always planned on returning to the Games, so why would they move into a fucking _penthouse_ if they were only going to be in it for so long?

 _Hyunjin_. Hyunjin had been why.

 _Fuck_ , he didn’t wanna think about that right now. Or ever, preferably.

On the dawn of day eight, Anita went back to the Games and Octavio went for a jog. She’d given him a copy of her key and told him that if he fucked up her house he would pay for it. He’d laughed her off.

Octavio had bought clothes for himself a couple days ago, not wanting to go back to Taejoon’s to get some. Currently he wore a pair of jogging shorts and a tee, because his body still did not look the way that he wanted it to, but that was fine. He was gonna fix that starting today, jogging until he got all that weight off of him and had _himself_ back.

It proved a little harder than he had initially thought, though—Octavio had hoped that by the time he’d gotten the damned kid out he would have his energy levels back to normal, would be just as fidgety as he had been _before_ this mess, but barely an hour into jogging he found himself winded and had to slow to a stop in a park, clutching at a stitch in his side.

He found a park bench and sat on it, resting his head between his knees as he caught his breath. Fuck, was he really _that_ out of shape? How could he have let this happen to him? Why the _fuck_ hadn’t he put a stop to it?

 _You know why,_ a bitter voice said, and he bit on his tongue so hard that he tasted iron.

Octavio straightened up after a while, looking out at all of the strangers walking their dogs in the field across from him. This was a nice little area; picturesque, almost, with its fountains and pretty trees. It perfectly exemplified upper middle class suburban life and all that.

It was... _boring._

Octavio suddenly heard a loud, wailing cry from beside him, and jumped.

Twisting his head this way and that, heart pounding in his chest, Octavio looked for the source of the noise because _fuck_. Fuck, were the...hallucinations or _whatever_ they were following him _here_ , too? He thought that they would only occur when he let his guard down at night, halfway between consciousness and sleep, so why the _hell_ was he hearing Hyunjin right now?

He got to his feet, stumbling a little as he covered his ears with his hands, trying to block the imagined sound out, and that’s when he spotted them—a woman rocking her crying baby on a park bench adjacent to his. She hadn’t noticed him acting like a fucking freak, was too focused on cooing at her baby in an attempt to calm it down. The kid was just...wailing.

At least he wasn’t hallucinating again.

“Sir?” He heard a voice from behind him, and turned to find himself face-to-face with a tiny, elderly woman and her poodle. “Are you alright?”

Octavio swallowed, before glancing over his shoulder to see that the lady was still tending to her baby. Completely oblivious to the world, and the actions of one Octavio Silva.

“Yeah,” he lied, and the elderly woman cocked her head to the side. “Just dehydrated.”

He left the park before she could ask him any more questions. Could practically feel the judgment in her gaze burning into his back. He didn’t need that right now. He just wanted to be left alone.

* * *

Octavio was pretty sure he was falling victim to auditory hallucinations. For the past week, whenever he was drifting off to sleep, he would hear a child cry directly beside him and then jerk awake violently, half-convinced that he’d never left Taejoon at all and that he was stuck with the kid. 

The first time it happened had been the first night he’d slept over, so he shook it off as echoes of the hospital still haunting him, but then it _kept_ happening and it was driving him fucking insane. He _hated_ that noise more than anything else, the sound of babies crying, and hearing it when he was trying to _sleep_ only managed to irk him even more.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had stim in so long. Or caffeine, for that matter. Anita wasn't big on caffeine, didn’t keep a single soda in her house, and Octavio wasn’t eating a whole lot nowadays so he’d never stopped somewhere and gotten a Coke, or something.

Maybe all he needed right now was a quick fix. A small dose to alleviate his stress, to go back to normal. To go back to being _Octane._

When he got back to Anita’s place he unplugged his phone from its charger and considered calling a taxi to take him to one of the pharmaceutical warehouses, where he could simply take as much stim as he wanted and not care about the consequences, but he paused when he saw that he had a missed call from Taejoon.

Taejoon hadn’t actually called him that much this past week. Only twice, actually, with this being the third time. He had about twenty text messages from him, though, asking if he was okay, when was he coming home, or otherwise trying to get Octavio to text him back. Octavio had only responded to him twice—once to tell him where he was, and another to tell him that he was, in fact, fine.

Peachy. Never been better. Especially now that the fucking kid was out of him.

Or, at least, that’s how he _wanted_ to feel, because he didn’t know why he still felt like shit.

Hyunjin had been _born_. The specific nightmare that being pregnant was, was _over_. He’d gotten over that hurdle and didn’t need to deal with it anymore.

Except, that part of it being over didn’t mean _shit_. It was a big part, sure, but it was just a _part_. He had other puzzle pieces glaring up at him right now, like Taejoon and his father and his job and his friends and the kid. He needed to take care of all of those things, but he didn’t know where to start, and he didn’t know where it would take him.

So he was just ignoring it all, for now. For as long as he could.

Or, he tried. He really tried to ignore it. Stole some pills out of Anita’s medicine cabinet in order to force himself to sleep like he’d been doing for this past week (but _she_ didn’t know that) and collapsed onto the sleeping bag. Drifted off while hearing distant wailing, but he actively chose to ignore it. It wasn’t _real_. Couldn’t be. The baby was far, _far_ away from him, just like he wanted it to be.

When Octavio woke up roughly nine hours later his cheeks were wet. He must have been crying in his sleep again. He didn’t even know _why_ —couldn’t remember any of his dreams during the day. Just felt remnants of a deep, aching pain in his gut that felt like a portion of his insides had been removed. Like he’d been gutted.

Maybe it was the loss of Taejoon in his life. The cruel irony of the fact that he’d gone through all of that for Taejoon just so that, in the end, he couldn’t stand the thought of him; because if he thought about his boyfriend _(ex-boyfriend?)_ for longer than two seconds his head started to hurt and his eyes started to burn.

He missed Taejoon a lot, actually. Missed his stupid nerd jokes and the way he got shy when Octavio was being forward with him, missed playing video games with him and missed trying to get a rise out of him. That game he played where he pushed as many of his buttons as he could to see if his boyfriend would lose his temper with him or snap—and he always did, eventually.

Until this whole situation. 

Sure, Taejoon had snapped at him at some point, but it wasn’t fun. It wasn’t like _usual_. And Octavio had been much nastier in return.

Fighting. Maybe that’s what they were doing. Fighting like his parents. Arguing like his father and birth mother over who had more obligation to look after him. Arguing like his father and every one of his subsequent wives, because his marriages lasted maybe three years apiece before he moved on to the next one.

Octavio didn’t know why he liked Taejoon so much or entered such a relationship with him, not after years of telling himself that there was no way he would ever do that. Not after seeing all of his father’s failed marriages.

But he’d told himself once that he was _not_ his father, and his relationships would _not_ be like that because he was _better_ than him.

Yet when it came to Hyunjin, Octavio had also always told himself that he _would_ be just like his father, didn’t know anything different, and he was certainly _acting_ like him now in his refusal to see the kid. It was a Schrodinger’s Cat situation where Octavio told himself that he was simultaneously _not_ his father and also _exactly_ like him.

 _So which is it?_ He thought bitterly to himself as he showered that morning, washing his face to get the sticky feeling of dried tears to go away. _Which answer benefits_ you _today, Octavio Silva?_

He’d been arguing with himself a lot these past couple of days like a fucking weirdo, but he usually just shook it off. It was just his brain being loud again—but this time it kept bothering him, kept pushing him to do _something_ today.

Should he call Taejoon because he _wasn’t_ like his father and never _will_ be, or should he continue ignoring him because, yes, actually, he couldn’t raise a kid because he knew he was going to be _exactly_ like him?

When Octavio stepped out of the shower he reached for his phone and started typing out a message. Deleted it after about five words and started over again only to delete that too and toss it aside.

Talking to Taejoon meant dealing with the aftermath of the choices he’d made, and the _what-ifs_ that were undoubtedly going to make their appearance. Octavio wasn’t ready to make a decision on _anything_. Felt like he’d never even actually _made_ one until now, that his decision seven months ago to keep Hyunjin hadn’t been a decision at all. Just a farce, and the real decision was looming over him right now. He would have to make it for real one of these days.

It should be easy, right? _I don’t want the fucking kid,_ he told himself, because that was the fucking _truth_. _I don’t want him. I’m not going to be a good dad. I’m not even a good partner._

What _did_ he want, then?

Octavio had always wanted...whatever it is that he wanted. He wanted a lot of things, and he usually got them. And one of the things he wanted that had always influenced the _other_ things he wanted was the desire to not be his father. He didn’t want to be anything like him, so he dyed his hair and got piercings and tattoos and wore as little clothing as possible because he was _not_ going to be an uptight, suit-wearing, bristly-mustached CEO-type _asshole_.

Octavio did not want to be his father, but cutting both Taejoon and Hyunjin out of his life was exactly the type of thing his father would do, and _had_ done before (even if the circumstances of whether that baby had been his father’s or not were muddled at best) and Octavio was now repeating that same exact action, had made the same exact _choice_ , and he fucking hated it, but hadn’t he also said going into this that he _was_ going to be like his father when it came down to it, so he wasn’t even that surprised with himself and _fuck_ , fuck fuck fuck _this_ was when his thoughts started spiraling out of his control.

He couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts, of what he wanted and _didn’t_ want. It was a fucking mess in his brain, and it wasn’t helped by the shittiness of _everything else_ right now. His low energy and loss of appetite and weird aches that he got everywhere. The audio hallucinations and loss of joy in the things he liked and his shaking hands.

Octavio wanted to run, like he had when he’d guilted Ajay into forging that order for his legs. He’d been able to escape the consequences of his actions because the consequence for his actions had been ‘ _you will no longer be able to walk_ ’. Well, he’d cheated, and found a loophole in the form of prosthetic legs, and _Ajay_ was the one who would have to do the dirty work for him to get them. 

_This_ wasn’t like that. The consequence of his relationship with Taejoon was a fucking _kid_ , and he couldn’t just so easily rid himself of it if he still wanted his boyfriend to be...well, his _boyfriend_. There was no ‘ _easy_ ’ way out. If he chose not to acknowledge Hyunjin, he would lose Taejoon too, and gain _nothing_. But if he _did_ stick with Taejoon, then he would have to put up with a baby that he wasn’t ready for.

No matter which option he chose, he lost something, and he wasn’t used to that.

He _always_ got what he wanted. He was, for lack of better terms, spoiled. Always knew what to expect and always expected things to go his way. He’d never really had to sacrifice himself for something that other people wanted, not until he kept that kid, and he couldn’t even commit to it all the way, because Octavio was just selfish in nature. He was self-aware enough to admit that.

As he picked up his phone for what must be the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours, he stared at Taejoon’s contact name, still those stupid little emojis, and wondered if he should just make the jump. Just call his boyfriend and ask him what he wanted, if he even wanted Octavio to come back or if he wanted him to stay the fuck away. 

Big decisions. Big, adult decisions, like the one he’d made seven months ago when he had to decide if he wanted to get an abortion behind Taejoon’s back or tell him to his face.

The fingers on his opposite hand tapped against his thigh impatiently as he thought about Taejoon. He really liked the guy. He was sweet and funny but also wasn’t _boring_ —instead, he was witty and sharp and mysterious and Octavio had been...not great to him. Had excused it as the pregnancy taking its toll on him, but had done nothing to make up for it so far. Just ran. Like he always did.

Maybe making the call would be better for Octavio. That way he wouldn’t have to actually _see_ the kid. Could talk to _Taejoon Park_ , not Taejoon With A Kid.

Taejoon with... _their_ kid.

Before he could change his mind, he bit hard on his tongue and pressed the ‘ _call_ ’ button, holding it up to his ear as it rang. Foot tapping impatiently and hoping, distantly, that he wouldn't pick up.

* * *

Taejoon was tired.

He’d hardly slept at all this past week, between caring for an infant and talking to Mila and Mystik and worrying about Octavio. Constantly doing _something,_ and never nothing. He sometimes found himself drifting off on the couch in the middle of a task, and had once even done so while standing up at the counter making lunch, accidentally cutting his finger as he did so.

He was no stranger to insomnia, but this was different. He wasn’t sleeping because he _couldn’t_ ; he wasn’t sleeping because he didn’t _want_ to. He actively made the choice to not sleep, not while he was the only one taking care of Hyunjin.

Taejoon loved Hyunjin. He remembered reading once that parents bonded with their baby most strongly within the first week, and while Taejoon had been looking forward to his son being born he hadn’t quite expected to fall in love with him as much as he had. It was _different_ from taking care of the babies in the orphanage as a teen—Hyunjin was soundly, resolutely _his_. A _part_ of him, almost, and needed care.

Because of that, he’d hardly slept. Always checking to see if the baby was okay, making sure he was sleeping the right way and wouldn’t suffocate or become uncomfortable. When Hyunjin was awake he always made sure he was clean and fed and played with him as gently as he could—laying on the couch with his son and pressing his finger close to his face, trying to see if he would grab it as he had done before, and he usually did. His fingers were so tiny, and it was almost unbelievable that Hyunjin was _his._

He loved his son—and fuck, that was a big word for him, _his son_ —and he knew, by the end of his first week, that he would do _anything_ for him.

Which led to his current predicament.

Taejoon still needed to make a decision on what to do with his life right now. Whether he should keep going or give up.

Endanger Hyunjin immediately by actively poking his nose into the Syndicate’s business, or endanger Hyunjin further along the line after letting his guard down? He was his son’s only caretaker, currently, and that was starting to weigh down heavily on him, and would certainly affect which route he decided to go down. He _wanted_ his identity back, wanted his life on Gaea back, but he had a kid now and couldn’t just...

Couldn't just easily...

Scrubbing his hand down his face with a yawn, Taejoon finished making himself a cup of coffee and wandered over to where Hyunjin was sleeping soundly in his crib. His eyes were relaxed shut and he was drooling, head turned to the side and tiny fists clenched. Taejoon liked watching him sleep, liked being assured of the fact that he was alive and safe because there were _so_ many things that could go wrong, especially with him being the only one looking after him.

Taejoon's phone was about to go off in a couple of minutes, he knew, with one of the alarms he’d set for him. Infants needed to be fed every couple of hours, and he kept Hyunjin on a strict schedule so that he would never be too hungry or fussy. For now, he was just enjoying the silence, because who knew how hard that would be to come by soon.

And speaking of his phone, it went off just as he was thinking of it, though he frowned as he dug it out of his pocket, because he was sure that it wasn’t set to go off for another five...

He froze as soon as he saw the caller ID; it was Octavio. 

Taejoon’s first instinct was to hang up on him. Block his call. His boyfriend _(ex-boyfriend?)_ had made his position clear last week—in fact, he’d made it clear well before that—and Taejoon couldn’t afford to be thinking about him right now. He needed to do what was best for Hyunjin, and arguing with his father was not one of those things.

But he also knew that he couldn’t just ignore him so easily. He’d _tried_ , this past week. Tried to just let him do his own thing, figure things out for himself, but Taejoon had called him three times and texted him much more than that just so that he could see how he was doing and where he was. He couldn't keep himself away. He _cared._

Taejoon stepped out of the bedroom before his ringing phone could disturb Hyunjin, not wanting him to be awake for whatever was about to go down. Inhaling deeply, Taejoon told himself to be civil, and answered the call with a short,

“What.”

“ _Oh_ ,” came Octavio’s voice. “ _You’re awake_.”

He almost sounded disappointed. Taejoon waited for him to speak first, setting his coffee cup down on the island as he did so. Octavio eventually did talk, though he sounded stilted, as though he were forcing himself to.

“ _So uhhh...how is everything?_ ”

“You mean after you left me and a newborn on the street? Grand,” Taejoon said dryly.

“ _You make it sound worse than it really was!_ ” Octavio argued back, before his tone changed abruptly again. “ _But anyways, uh, I wanted to talk about that, actually! Look, cariño, we left off on the wrong foot, I think, and I’ve been a total jackass_.”

“You could say that again,” Taejoon muttered.

“ _I’ve been a total jackass_ ,” Octavio repeated. Taejoon couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth twitched up into a little smile. _Idiot_.

“ _So I just thought...maybe we could work something out?_ ” Octavio sounded hopeful, and Taejoon just felt _relief_ over the fact that they were finally talking. After a week of...whatever _this_ had been. So he hummed out,

“What did you have in mind? Let’s meet up.”

He could be angry later. He could talk to his boyfriend about the way he had refused to be honest with Taejoon, snapped at him, drove him out until eventually it was Octavio running away and refusing to deal with the things he’d done. He could do that later. For now, he was just relieved that they were talking again, and that Octavio was _alright._ Not...

Hurt. Like Taejoon had thought he would do to himself.

“ _Nah, I thought we could talk like this._ ” Octavio’s words came out faster, like he was in a rush to speak. “ _Well, you know I’m no good with kids, but I still really like you, so I was thinking we could just—_ ”

That brief bubble of relief popped as soon as he said that. Scowling, Taejoon listened to the other man talk about ‘ _meeting up_ ’ with him, with Hyunjin out of the way, so that they could continue ‘ _like normal_ ’. As soon as he finished speaking, Taejoon said,

“ _No_.”

There was a pause. Octavio sounded confused when he repeated, “... _No_?”

“You’re still running away,” Taejoon accused quietly, trying to fight back the anger threatening to creep into his voice, the frustration he’d been holding back for months now. “You made a decision Octavio, and now you need to deal with it.”

“ _But_ —”

“No buts, no halfway points. It is all or nothing,” Taejoon said, voice dangerously steady, and Octavio went quiet. “You will either come back to us both or you will not come back at all. I cannot afford to divide my time between you and a newborn. Is that clear?”

Maybe he should be surprised by the other's audacity to even suggest something like this, but he wasn’t. It was in-character for Octavio, and lined up with all of his previous selfish actions. He didn’t know why he’d deluded himself into thinking that, for a moment, Octavio was taking responsibility. Being mature, for once.

“Crystal,” Octavio responded quietly, and then hung up on him. No _goodbye_ or any further discussion. Just silence.

Taejoon sighed, setting his phone down on the counter as he heard Hyunjin begin to cry from behind him. He’d woken up at some point, and was undoubtedly hungry. Willing away the anger he felt, Taejoon forced his shoulders to relax as he focused on the baby and his needs. He didn’t want to be too forceful or aggressive with him by accident. 

Picking Hyunjin up gently, he spoke quietly to the baby, as he always seemed to calm down when spoken to. He liked noise, whether it be Taejoon cooing at him or music playing from his phone—he usually calmed down after hearing either of those things, staring at him with wide eyes. He stared a lot. It was cute.

Taejoon got out the bottle of formula he'd made a couple of minutes ago and the clean towel he'd washed yesterday that he used for burping. It was pretty gross, but someone had to do it, or else Hyunjin would feel uncomfortable.

Feeding him on the couch, Taejoon let his head fall back with a sigh, trying not to think about Octavio, but their previous conversation kept coming back to him, making him feel frustrated still.

Octavio still didn't want anything to do with Hyunjin, that was clear, but he also wanted _Taejoon_. Taejoon wanted him too, despite it all, but Hyunjin would have to come first. He couldn't put his own wants—or Octavio's—above the baby's.

Hyunjin didn't have anyone else except for him. He was his only caretaker, and he would have to make every decision from now on with that fact in mind.

" _Aish_ ," he mumbled out in Korean, before glancing down at his son. " _Eotteoghae?_ "

Hyunjin just kept staring up at him with wide eyes, and it made him feel the tiniest bit better.

* * *

Taejoon had given Octavio a choice.

_You come back to the both of us or you don’t come back at all._

Cut neatly. No ifs, ands, or buts. Honestly, it would make Octavio’s life a hell of a lot easier with just those two options. A lot less thinking and a lot more...

Well. Still thinking, actually. He was thinking about it now, a full day after that conversation, but he at least had a starting point and knew that he had to reach one of two end destinations eventually.

 _Eventually_ being the key word.

Return to Taejoon, deal with the kid, or pretend that this never happened? He could go back to the Games, where Taejoon would probably never return, not with a baby in his care. If he wasn’t dating him anymore, and the other wasn’t participating in the Games, then would they just lose contact altogether? What reason would they have to still talk to one another if Octavio did make that decision?

Taejoon would eventually fade into nothing more than background noise in his mind. Maybe after a year or so, that's all he would become. Octavio wasn’t one to linger on regrets for too long, and the other man would probably be no different. 

He’d move on, and then maybe see him in the news one day. _Suspected murderer caught,_ or some other headline. Something would happen to Hyunjin then, but he wouldn’t know what. Would _they_ hurt a kid too, or would they get a hold of his birth certificate and see that Octavio was his father, and try to hand him off to him? Or else think Octavio was involved with some grander scheme, and take him in for questioning, or worse?

Losing contact with Taejoon was not the route Octavio wanted to go down. He tried to think of it from a detached standpoint— _eh, I’ll get over it eventually_ —but the core idea of _I won’t know what happens to him until he’s dead_ stuck, and he decided that that would be a really fucking shitty path to go down.

But so would the alternative. Coming back.

Coming back to his boyfriend sounded good, but coming back to Hyunjin (as if he’d ever even been there in the first place) sounded nightmarish. He’d already given up so _much_ during the pregnancy, ruined his own body and quit stim and had his caffeine monitored. He wasn’t ready to give up even _more_ of his life to take care of another human being. He could hardly take care of his damn self, hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.

None of this shit was _easy_. There was no obvious option to him. Just two bad choices, and a really bad headache.

He knew he had to make a decision eventually, though. Get out of Anita’s house and either return to Taejoon’s place or go find his own. Or, actually, the penthouse was under _his_ name, wasn’t it? Then it would be _him_ returning to the penthouse and kicking the both of them out.

God, not even Octavio was that much of a fucking asshole. Even if he didn’t like kids, couldn’t be good with them, he wasn’t going to kick a _baby_ to the curb. He’d just...find a way to give Taejoon the house instead. Transfer it or something, and then maybe stay at Ajay’s place for a little bit. She probably wouldn’t be very happy about that, though.

Oh god, _Ajay_. He had yet to hear from her, even though she must know _something_ was up. She must’ve come by the penthouse to visit the kid, and then got told by Taejoon about Octavio leaving, and the fact that she hadn’t sent him a 1,000 word text message or called him to yell was freaking him the _fuck_ out. It was one of the reasons he’d been leaving his phone mostly untouched these past couple of days, handling it carefully like it was a ticking bomb.

Maybe, since he was already out, he should pay her a visit. Drop a little _haha so I abandoned the kid_ bomb in case she somehow didn't know about it yet. And then...

Octavio paused in the middle of the sidewalk where he had been walking, lost in thought, but snapped out of his ruminations by the sight of an indoor trampoline park. Holy _shit_ , he loved those things.

He hadn't been to one in forever. Solace wasn't exactly an indoor trampoline park kinda place, and neither was Talos. After some internal debate, he went inside, hoping to make himself feel better by doing something fun. Bonus points for it being an active activity, as he’d lost maybe ten pounds but he still needed to lose more. 

The lady running the counter gave him a weird look when he paid, and asked him, “Where are your kids?”

Octavio had been asked that question before when coming to these types of places, and his normal, immediate response was ‘ _I don’t have any_ ’. But those words stuck in his throat this time around as he opened his mouth, unable to say it because...that wasn’t true, anymore. 

Well, no, it was _still_ true, wasn’t it? Yeah, he’d like, carried it in him and gave birth to it and signed its birth certificate, but it wasn’t _really_ his. He wasn’t taking care of it. It was Taejoon’s.

The lady cocked a brow, perturbed by his silence, and Octavio finally managed to shake his head and say, “Just me today.”

“Right,” she said skeptically. “Well, take off your shoes before entering.”

“I don’t have shoes.”

“Go on, then.”

Octavio entered the main area of the trampoline park, glancing around at the people jumping. It was mostly kids, between the ages of eight and twelve, though there was an occasional teenager standing around on their phone or a toddler crawling across the wobbling surface of the trampolines. 

There was a woman maybe his age doing somersaults on the trampolines, so he didn’t feel self-conscious about doing this. He was just a little worried about being near the kids; a huge portion of his fanbase were children and he didn’t want to be recognized by one in the middle of his hiatus. 

Octavio jumped around for a bit, occasionally doing tricks like running up to one of the trampolines on the walls and kicking off of it, flipping in midair. It usually earned him excited applause from the kids, and some of them started following him around, asking him questions like _where did you learn to do that_ and _can you teach me?_

For a while, Octavio felt like he was back to normal. Just doing the kind of stuff he liked, and definitely breaking the rules with how many times he had flipped over kids lying down on the trampolines. At one point, he picked up a little girl, maybe seven, and jumped with her in his arms before tossing her up in the air. He’d done that before, so he wasn't nervous about it. Kids flocked to you in places like this when you could do cool stuff. He’d experienced it plenty while at the skate park.

After a while, though, jumping made him ache between his legs. It was a specific pain he’d been having since...well, giving fucking birth, and Google said that it would go away eventually, but it still fucking sucked. He walked off the trampolines, red-faced and sweaty, as he considered going to the snack bar and finally getting his hands on some Coke, or something, when he was suddenly tapped on his hip.

Turning around, he saw two kids standing right behind him; they’d been following him around while he did tricks.

“Can we get a picture?” One of them, the girl, asked. It was the same one he’d thrown up into the air. The boy, slightly younger, shyly hid behind her.

“Why?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow, and she pointed at him with wide eyes.

“Because you’re Octane, right?”

Damn, he’d been figured out. He was in a much better mood now, though, so he held his finger up to his mouth in a ‘ _shh_ ’ motion and winked at her, which made her giggle. “Alright, chica, but don’t tell anybody, alright?”

“My brother’s gonna take the picture,” she said, pointing behind her at one of the bored teenagers who’d been standing around earlier. The teen held up his phone and said dryly,

“Get in the picture, Sam.”

The little boy—Sam, presumably—walked behind Octavio, still trying to hide from view. He was evidently shy. 

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t bite,” Octavio said, twisting around to take his hand and guide him in front of him. The girl was bouncing eagerly on his other side, but the boy still looked nervous. Octavio bent down beside him, used to nervous kids like him. They usually calmed down after a picture or two.

“Janice, sit _still_ ,” the teen complained.

“Can we do a pose?” Janice asked eagerly. “The _Octane_ pose?”

Octane grinned at her before mimicking her hand movements, throwing his arms up with his hands doing his signature devil’s horns—but in the process he ended up elbowing Sam in the face, and the little boy cried out, stumbling to the side while his hands jumped up to cradle his cheek.

Octavio immediately felt bad, reaching out for him and stuttering out, “Aw man, I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to do that.”

He got the kid’s hands away from his face, trying to get a good look at the damage, but he felt really weird as he stared at his screwed-up, reddening face. Sam wasn’t crying yet, but his eyes were wet and he was sniffling, clearly hurt. Octavio’s eyes were burning, and the next thing he knew, he was crying in the middle of a fucking trampoline park.

He had no idea _why_. _He_ had hurt the kid, not the other way around, but there were actual goddamn tears coming out of his eyes as he tried to get the little boy to look at him to make sure he hadn’t like, bruised him or whatever. His sister, Janice, was calling Sam a big baby as Octavio wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to fight back an oncoming hiccup as he swallowed a sob down. Why the _fuck_ was he crying right now? What the hell was happening to him?

“Ignore him!” Janice was saying as Octavio tried to regain his composure, blinking rapidly to get the moisture out of his eyes. Maybe it was a delayed reaction to the pain between his legs. “He’s just a—whoa, why are _you_ crying?”

“I dunno,” he said, and his voice sounded weird. Not like the way he’d been projecting it in front of these kids—smaller, scratchier. “I th-think, um—”

Sam was crying for real now, no longer just sniffling, and he felt really fucking bad about it. He didn't know what to do to make him feel better or what to say aside from _I'm sorry,_ hands hovering in midair as he tried to think of a way to console the kid.

“Let’s go, guys,” the teenager was on top of them now, and Octavio got to his feet and tried not to meet his eyes in case he thought he was a fucking weirdo for crying over nothing. “Mom’s calling.”

“Aww, but I wanted a picture!”

“I got the picture, Janice, now shut up and make sure Sam’s not hurt.”

“But—!”

Their voices faded away as Octavio managed to calm himself down, still not sure _why_ he had just burst into tears in front of a bunch of kids. Wiping at his eyes once more, he approached the snackbar and asked for a can of Coke, and after paying he popped the tab and took a sip of caffeine for the first time in months.

He’d thought that this moment would be relieving, after months of want, but it just made him feel worse. He took a couple of more sips on his way out and then tossed the rest into a garbage can. He wasn’t hungry right now. Couldn’t even stomach a drink.

He made it back to Anita’s townhouse and picked up his phone from where he’d left it on her couch, wanting to type out a message to Taejoon— _I’m leaving. For good. I can’t take care of the kid_ —but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Couldn’t stomach the thought of telling Taejoon that he was _giving up_ , that he had done all of that for him (for _himself_ , actually) and was just going to throw it all away in the end because he...

Because he was _Octavio Silva_ , and running away was what he did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eotteoghae--what do i do?
> 
> i do not like babies and never want kids so writing taejoons section was just me going damn thats kinda cringe throughout the whole thingJNWFKJEFNJKWFNKWFN
> 
> hiiii sorry for multi chap sequel. i figured nobody would read a 25k word one-shot. mwah


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR DA WAIT @-@

Every day that passed left Taejoon feeling like he was stranded in a strange sort of limbo.

Busy and burnt out from having to take care of an infant by himself, stretched thin as he gave all of his attention to Hyunjin with a big decision lurking at the back of his mind, a decision he couldn’t make until Octavio made _his_. Right now his future hinged on one man; he almost wanted to track Octavio down and force him to _come_ to a decision, he didn’t even care _which_ at this point, he just needed to know what to _do_.

He hated feeling lost, but as the days went by it became clear he was going to be stuck this way until then.

One week without Octavio stretched into two. Two weeks of doctor's exams and having to figure out how to travel safely with Hyunjin when he didn't own a car and multiple sleepless nights. Two weeks of feeling an amalgam of emotions, namely sadness and bitterness and happiness—his emotions were on a scale, and where he landed on that scale depended on how much he was thinking about Octavio and how much he was thinking about his son.

The second weekend without Octavio had Taejoon perched on the edge of his couch, staring blearily at Natalie’s name at the top of his contacts list. He _needed_ a break, needed time to himself even if that time was just going to be spent sleeping. He had spent several minutes debating with himself, going over the pros and cons of calling, before finally doing so with a sigh.

She’d been wanting to meet Hyunjin, eagerly texting him ever since he'd been born, though Taejoon wondered if she would still be this enthusiastic once she learned how loud his cries could get. When she answered the phone he gave her a quick explanation of his situation, asking her to come over, to which she responded with an ecstatic _‘yes_!’

He wrote Hyunjin’s feeding times on a piece of paper before setting his pen down, looking over at where he was napping in his crib. He wore a cute onesie with stars on it that Mary had sent right before he'd been born.

Taejoon picked him up carefully when Natalie finally texted that she was in the lobby, hoping to gently wake him and get him acquainted with her so that he wouldn’t be upset by a new face when Taejoon finally _did_ collapse.

The front office called, telling him that a woman was here to see him, and two minutes later Natalie was bursting into his apartment with a huge smile on her face.

“Ah, mon cheri!” She cooed, instantly reaching for Hyunjin without even a _‘hello_ ’ to Taejoon. “Look at him! He’s so cute!”

Taejoon smiled at her, shifting Hyunjin carefully in his arms and passing him over towards Natalie. He kept one hand on Hyunjin’s head, instructing her quietly on how to hold him properly, before taking a step back and letting himself practically flop onto the couch as she cradled him to her chest.

“How have you been?” Natalie asked, still not looking at him—she had eyes only for Hyunjin.

“Exhausted,” Taejoon murmured, running his hand through his hair.

“And Octavio?”

Taejoon glanced over at her, but her expression hadn’t changed, nor had her tone. He wondered if she knew. He wondered if _anyone_ knew.

Ajay hadn’t visited him like she’d said she would, being unexpectedly busy with Frontier Corps stuff. Because of that, he hadn’t told her yet that Octavio bailed. Those first few days he hadn’t felt the need to, half-convinced, perhaps foolishly, that Octavio would return to him and he didn't want to stir up needless drama with her. He had hoped that after everything Octavio had gone through he wouldn’t just _give it all up_ , in the end—but then those couple of days turned into a week, turned into a phone call, turned into him giving Octavio a choice to make.

Those words bubbled in his throat, threatening to spill, but he forced himself to swallow them down and asked instead, “What?”

“How is he?” Natalie looked up then, her electric blue eyes earnest. Unaware of the fact that Taejoon was by himself. “Is he hurting?”

His mouth went dry, but he knew that there was no use sugarcoating it. He would have to be honest with her, especially since one of the reasons he’d asked her to come over was because of his exhaustion.

“Octavio’s not here," he said, and hated the way that his voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, but still _there._

“Where is he?” She asked without missing a beat.

“He left.” Taejoon could see that she still didn’t understand. He didn’t blame her, because it was the one conclusion that nobody wanted to jump to. “He left me. And Hyunjin.”

Natalie stared at him with wide eyes, disbelieving—before she approached him with Hyunjin still in her arms, suddenly apologetic.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t....why would he do that?”

Taejoon let out a short sigh, running his hand through his hair again as he fought back everything he wanted to say, the rants he wanted to go on. It was a can of worms he didn’t want to open just yet, knowing he might break down if he went on for too long. 

“I’ve been alone this whole time,” he murmured, not meeting her eyes. “And I’m...really exhausted. Can you watch over him for me while I take a break? I’ll tell you what happened when I wake up.”

Natalie pursed her lips, before nodding silently. He stood up from the couch to get the notepad he’d written on earlier, instructing her in a flat voice on how to feed Hyunjin, telling her that she could watch TV and put him down for a nap in Taejoon's room—he himself would be sleeping upstairs, and if she needed him, she could wake him up.

Natalie nodded along to his instructions, and by the time Taejoon had grabbed a pillow and blanket from his room Hyunjin was already asleep in her arms. He had two reasons for sleeping in an upstairs room—not wanting to be awoken by them when Hyunjin eventually went down for a nap, and not wanting to stare at the empty side of his bed, like he’d been doing the few times he’d allowed himself to crawl into it.

Taejoon seated himself in the comfortable chair in Hyunjin’s room—it was able to recline, though not very far, so he curled up as much as he could before throwing his blanket over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his pillow.

He had hoped he would be able to drift off easily, but his entire body was stiff, and every noise Natalie and Hyunjin made downstairs had him opening his eyes, wondering if he should go check on them. He knew that if there was a problem she would come to him, but he still found his fingers anxiously curling into his pillow every time he heard Hyunjin begin to cry, followed by Natalie shushing him or singing. 

He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since well before Hyunjin had been born, so when he finally did drift off only to suddenly jerk awake, he wasn’t very surprised by the fact that it was now dark outside. At some point he had curled even more onto the chair, his legs no longer on the reclined footrest, so when he sat up and stretched his limbs everything popped. 

There was a crick in his neck that he massaged as he checked the time on his phone—he’d been out for about eleven hours, though it felt like hardly any time had passed at all. He glanced out the large windows in Hyunjin's room, seeing the glow of the city spread out before him, and was once again struck with the familiar sensation of being _overwhelmed—_ in this large house that wasn't even his, taking care of a newborn by himself.

Taejoon went into his messages, wondering if he should text Octavio, as he always did whenever he found himself checking his phone. The last time he'd texted was when he'd asked if Octavio wanted to pick up the paycheck he'd gotten in the mail from his streaming royalties, but he hadn't received a response.

Taejoon read those messages now, biting his lower lip, before going into his phone gallery.

He rarely took pictures, so he didn't even have to scroll to find what he was looking for; a photo of Octavio taken back in March, on his birthday. They'd ordered dinner after walking back from the stadium, and in this picture Octavio was balancing his drink on his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he shot finger-guns at the camera. The picture was stupid, but he remembered laughing as he took it, and laughing even harder when the drink suddenly tipped over and soaked Octavio's shorts in cold water.

He had more pictures of Octavio, but this was one of his favorites. It was taken shortly after they'd discussed moving in together, and after Octavio had gotten cleaned up, he'd crawled into Taejoon's lap, kissing him, making Taejoon feel as though the decision he'd made had been the _right_ one.

He didn't know if he still felt that way now.

Turning his phone off and pocketing it with a sigh, he got to his feet and tried hard to ignore the bunny decals on the wall next to him.

Padding down the stairs silently, he saw Natalie sitting on the couch with a book in her lap, Hyunjin nowhere to be found; it was late, after all. He must be asleep 

“Good evening,” Natalie said lightly when she noticed him, and he gave her a nod before walking to the fridge and grabbing himself a bottle of water, his throat feeling dry. He could feel her eyes on him, trained on the back of his head, and as he gulped down about half the bottle he wondered if he should...tell her.

He was tired of keeping secrets. Tired of having to keep everything to himself, his struggles with Mila and his identity, the position Octavio had unknowingly put him in, and he wanted to go _off,_ but to do that he had to tell her the _truth_ , and...and the last person he’d told the truth had walked out on him.

“Hyeon?” Natalie asked, and he realized that he’d been staring at the fridge, zoned-out, for quite some time. “Is everything alright?”

He placed his half-empty bottle back into the fridge, words burning at the back of his throat. He wanted to swallow them down again, keep them from emerging, but Natalie was his friend, and he’d been doing this alone for several days. He needed someone to talk to that wasn’t a literal infant.

What should he even tell her? A condensed, quick version of his situation that left his true identity out of it, or should he just reveal the whole truth? She would be able to help him more if she had all the pieces of the puzzle, but she _also_ had close ties with the Syndicate. Even if she was his friend, after what had happened with Octavio, he didn’t feel quite so ready to bare that part of him to anyone.

He approached where she was sitting on the couch before sinking onto the spot beside her, letting out a sigh that came from somewhere deep within him, so deep he wasn’t even sure that it was bodily. They sat in silence for only a moment before he found himself saying,

“Octavio never wanted the baby.”

Natalie let out a little gasp, followed by, “And you made him—?”

“ _No_ ,” he said sharply, turning his head a little to send her a glance, seeing that she was frowning now. “I only found out right before Hyunjin was born. In the beginning, he told me that he wanted this.”

“But...” Natalie scooted a little closer to him, before reaching out tentatively and placing a gentle hand on his upper arm. “Why would he do that?”

Why? Why _would_ he do that? Why would Octavio Silva, the daredevil who blew off his legs and was allergic to the concept of emotions, do _that_? 

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Taejoon had been told the answer, but he still didn’t understand why Octavio would go through with something he hated for Taejoon—because if what Octavio had said was true, then he wouldn’t have just run away from him, would he? What was the point in carrying a baby to term _‘for someone’_ only to immediately abandon that person? If you did something because you _cared_ for someone, why would you leave that person behind?

Maybe Octavio had realized over the course of their relationship that he didn’t care for Taejoon as much as he thought he did. That this whole farce wasn’t worth keeping up for him, that he was _boring_ now. Maybe Octavio would soon move on to something much more interesting, more _exciting,_ and forget about Taejoon entirely.

That thought hurt more than he wanted to admit. He felt like he had been used, discarded once he was done being entertaining, though he had no idea where the fuck Octavio had even derided his entertainment from. Now he was left with a weight he had to tug around on his own, all while trying to juggle all his other life problems, some of which were more pressing and threatening than others.

“For me, he said,” Taejoon finally mumbled, letting his head rest in his hands for a moment. Not looking at her, so that she wouldn’t be able to pick up on the hurt he was doing his best to keep hidden. “But I think he got bored of me in the end."

Natalie ran her fingers over his bicep comfortingly for a few minutes as they sat there in silence, the TV on mute and playing some stupid trivia game show. He watched the contestants onscreen, trying to guess their silent answers to take his mind off things. He didn’t want to talk about it any further, had already revealed so much—but then Natalie was leaning forward on her knees, trying to get a better look at him, and he found himself making eye contact.

“Do you remember what I said a while ago?” She asked him, and he stared at her, trying to recall anything that stood out, before shaking his head. “I said that I thought Octavio was too Octavio to have a baby, and that he must really love you."

Taejoon scoffed, bitter. “And then he left me by myself. With a child.”

“He did,” Natalie said. “But he still did it all for you. That type of emotion must have been strong, so I don't think he got bored of you. Has he tried calling?"

He shrugged one shoulder, before realizing she didn’t see this motion and responding, “Yes.”

“About?”

“...Wanting to still see me without Hyunjin.”

“See, mon ami?” Natalie leaned against him as his eyes flickered from her face back to the TV. “He still cares about you. He loves you. I think he’s just scared of the baby.”

“So am I,” Taejoon said, voice cracking against his will, and when she gave a hum he bit on his lip, trying to hold back, but the words were burning, now. “I don’t know _what_ I’m doing. I...I’ve looked after younger kids before, but this is different. This one is _mine_ , and I’m doing it full-time. I’m scared.”

“I think we’re all a bit scared of a baby,” Natalie giggled, and he hid his face in his hands again, willing away the unwelcome tears in his eyes. “It’s funny, no?”

When he didn’t respond, she kept talking, her leg bouncing beside his.

“Maybe he never prepared himself. You’ve conducted yourself well, Hyeon—but Octavio?” There was still a tinge of humor to her voice. “He’s insulated himself from the idea. It never quite settled in, and now he’s scared.”

Taejoon rubbed at his eyes, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to get emotional, but fuck, he _missed_ Octavio, and it fucking hurt. He didn't know what had went wrong, if if had always been flawed or if Octavio just suddenly decided he wasn't worth it. 

Natalie kept going, her hand rubbing circles into his back now.

“When my mother died, I was so young. I conducted myself well because I never knew her. But for Papa...like Octavio, it never settled in. I didn’t know her, but he did, and it was like he didn’t want to admit she was gone. We never talked about it."

“I think this situation is a bit different,” Taejoon murmured, but before she could respond they both heard Hyunjin give a wail from his bedroom. He got to his feet quickly, an automatic movement, unsurprised by his son’s cries, as he did this often during the evenings. It was one of the reasons why he hadn’t gotten any sleep.

“You two broke up and then got back together,” Natalie said as she followed him into his room, where he picked Hyunjin up carefully, cradling his head and holding him close to his chest before checking to see if he needed a change. He didn’t—perhaps he was just hungry. It was about that time.

He turned to Natalie, hoping that his eyes were not red. “Can you make a bottle?”

“Please listen to me,” she said.

“I am.”

“Then I think you two should try _talking_ to one another.” She looked him up and down, her lips turning down in another frown. “I don’t want you and him to do what we did.”

He let out a long exhale as she turned her back on him and marched to the kitchen, seemingly unaffected by Hyunjin’s cries as she went into the motions of preparing him a bottle.

She was right. Octavio _had_ called him, still wanting to see him, so it could be that he hadn't just discarded Taejoon outright—maybe he had just realized that they were better off fucking, without any sort of emotional ties, which hurt in its own way. He didn't want to think about that.

And they probably _should_ talk to one another so that he could tell Octavio the situation he was in, and hopefully hasten his decision-making—but after being on his own for so long, he wasn’t sure how he would react to being with Octavio, if he would get angry at him again, and then any hope for a productive conversation would become lost. If Octavio would still try to skirt around the edge of responsibility, try to worm his way into a spot where he could have the best of both worlds despite Taejoon already laying down the groundwork for him.

 _Maybe_ talking would help. Not talking was how they found themselves in this situation in the first place. He often found himself, late at night, regretting the fact that he hadn’t asked Octavio if he _really_ wanted this when those thoughts had been plaguing him. Regretted not giving in to his doubt, because maybe then they would be better off now, maybe Octavio would have had an abortion or maybe they would have come to some kind of agreement _before_ the baby had been born.

Maybe he wouldn’t be stretched thin right now, harried and exhausted, and maybe Octavio wouldn’t be sleeping on Anita’s couch or whatever the hell he was doing right now.

Natalie handed him a towel and a bottle when he finally joined her, and he thanked her quietly. She smiled at him, before bending a little to get close to Hyunjin’s face, cooing.

“Ramya said I would stop liking babies once I saw one,” she said, and Taejoon bit back a tired smile, because he'd been thinking the same thing. “But I think I just like them even more, now.”

“Even if they’re loud?” He asked, and she nodded.

“They can’t help it! One small part is not going to make me hate children as a whole.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, eyes widening slightly when she checked the time. “I’ve got to get going, but call me if you need anything. And _please_ —talk to Octavio.”

“Thank you, Natalie,” he said as genuinely as he could despite still being relatively tired. She didn’t have to take the time out of her day to do this for him, but he was better off for it, and their conversation had helped somewhat. 

“Of course!” She bent down again to speak to Hyunjin, who was quiet now that he was being fed. “Au revoir. Until we meet again, Hyunjin.”

She left soon after, gathering her things from where she’d left them on the couch and waving him goodbye on her way out the door. Taejoon finished up his feeding routine with Hyunjin—it was almost soothing, in a way, to go through the motions with ease even if it was sort of gross—before sitting with his son on the couch.

Even if he felt exhausted, dealing with issues beyond Hyunjin, and still needed to figure a lot of things out...he enjoyed this part of his day. Feeling warmth as he held Hyunjin, feeling a connection he hadn’t had in years, ever since his life had been upended. A new purpose, a new goal that wasn’t just revenge and uncovering secrets and exposing the truth. He enjoyed it, as silly as it sounded; enjoyed holding he and Octavio's son, tangible proof of _something_ , even if he wasn't entirely sure what it was proof of yet. 

He just wished that he wasn’t alone in feeling it.

Taejoon placed his finger in Hyunjin’s palm, and his son instantly wrapped his own fingers around it, gripping him tightly. It was some sort of involuntary thing, he’d read, and in a couple of months Hyunjin would be able to grasp things voluntarily. For now, he would just marvel at the fact that something so tiny could somehow be so strong.

"You're so powerful," he spoke quietly, his legs drawn up on the couch as he rested his arms against his knees, looking down at Hyunjin. "What for?"

Hyunjin's eyes were a light brown, much more like Octavio's than his own. He wondered if they would stay that way or eventually darken—he would find out in the upcoming months, he supposed.

He eventually put Hyunjin back down in his crib, speaking quietly to him in Korean the whole time. He usually just recounted his day whenever he did this, knowing infants liked being talked to. He’d never really been one for story-telling, so simply telling Hyunjin what he’d done during the day took the place of that. Octavio would probably be much better at this than him.

As that thought crossed his mind, he found himself sliding down that emotional scale, growing bitter and sad once again. He wanted to stop thinking about the other man, but it was hard to. He still felt a lot of things for him, though they were much more complicated than what he'd felt only a couple of months ago.

Taejoon made himself a late dinner in the kitchen; a pizza pocket that he would normally avoid because it tended to burn the roof of his mouth, but right now he craved something greasy. As he sat at the counter waiting for it to cool, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages with Octavio once again. Though he'd sent many, Octavio had only ever responded twice.

He almost wanted to text him now, but he didn’t know what he would say, not with all the complicated feelings he had right now. Maybe he would ask if he was alright, if he still felt anything for Taejoon, or maybe he would tell him to _hurry up_ and make a decision. The Syndicate wasn’t going to wait around for Taejoon to sort his life out.

Taejoon bit into his food, ignoring the burning heat on his tongue as his finger hovered over the ‘call’ button. What Natalie had said made him want to speak to Octavio. Ask if he really loved Taejoon—and if he did, then why did he _leave_? Was he really _that_ scared of a newborn?

He knew that Octavio was never one to take responsibility for things, always blaming his faults on someone else or weaseling his way out of sticky situations. He regretted not acting on his doubts back then—he should’ve known that someone like that wouldn’t be up for this, but he’d been blinded by what he felt for Octavio. Were those feelings still returned?

Taejoon didn’t even know which answer would make him feel worse at this point. Octavio not caring for him at all anymore would be harsh, obviously, but Octavio caring for him but _still_ choosing to leave, choosing to take his sweet time making a decision, was its own brand of bitterness. 

He eventually dropped his phone onto the counter, telling himself that it was midnight. Sure, Octavio stayed up late, but regardless of that, it was ridiculous to call someone at this hour.

Octavio probably wouldn’t even pick up, anyway.

* * *

Octavio was getting sick of being alone.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling to him, but that didn't mean he hated it any less. Growing up, his father had always had more interest in the company than his own son, and his wives were more interested in the luxuries that their fortune was able to provide than paying any attention to him. Even though Octavio had nannies and the house staff, he’d always been alone—until he finally found his footing in being _Octane_ , not Octavio Silva, and his loneliness became a thing of the past.

His fans, Che, the other Legends, the people watching the Games, Taejoon—all the attention in the world that he’d once craved was now the norm for him. Streaming, hanging out with his friends, being with his boyfr...

Well. Now that it was all gone, now that his world had come to a halt, he felt empty. Octavio couldn’t find the energy to stream anymore, didn’t even know _what_ he would stream because Anita would probably make good on her promise to fuck him up if he destroyed her house. He couldn’t talk to Taejoon, obviously, and he didn’t want to hit up the other Legends or rejoin the Games yet because they would figure out that _something_ was wrong. Then they would try to talk to him about it, and he didn’t want that to happen. 

But still, he hated being alone. He missed his fans, he missed participating in the Games, and he missed Taejoon. Which was _stupid_ , because _he_ had been the one to abandon Taejoon in the first place, and missing him felt unfair because of it, but _fuck_ he really did miss him. Octavio missed talking to him and kissing him and playing games with him and laughing at him and having sex with him and hell, he even almost missed _arguing_ with him. 

He liked his relationship with Taejoon, but he'd fucked it up, and not just with the Hyunjin thing, either. Octavio had been a fucking douchebag. Sure, some of it was him being irrationally angry because _H_ _ormones™,_ but he was self-aware enough to admit that he was an asshole.

He'd never really had to face consequences for acting like that before. Sure, Ajay blocked him periodically, but they were _family,_ and she always let him back into her life in the end, so he never really apologized.

Taejoon, though...he would have to. He _needed_ to, but he wasn't very good at apologizing, and he wouldn't even know exactly how to do it or where to start. _Sorry for being a prick? Sorry for being a liar? Sorry for...wanting to be with you?_ Wait, no, fuck, that sounded guilt-trippy, and he knew he couldn't pull that shit anymore.

Every day Octavio zig-zagged between the choices he had to make. Almost texted Taejoon numerous times to tell him that he couldn’t fucking do it. Almost called him three times to say _I’ll give it a go because I want you_. Considered just bailing on this stupid fucking planet, maybe hop on a ship for Solace and abandon the responsibility of having to make a choice altogether, though that in of itself was kind of like making a choice and _fuck_. There was no escape from this scenario, and Octavio had to live through this nightmare one way or another.

If they _did_ get back together, shit wouldn’t be the same. Taejoon knew that he didn’t want the kid, and he feared the kid would be able to tell, too, just like Octavio had been able to tell with _his_ father. Would the other man even feel the same for him after all this? Would he accept an apology, or had he realized already that Octavio was just an inherently selfish, terrible person, and wouldn’t be a good fit to even raise the kid? Would he then decide he didn’t want Octavio in the kid's life after all?

If Octavio just left them, though, there was still a chance that the kid would end up in his care regardless, except in _this_ scenario he would be completely alone because Taejoon was gone. He _could_ just dump the kid in an orphanage, but what if the kid was old enough to realize what was going on by that point and hated him for it and why the _hell_ did he even care if Hyunjin hated him, anyway, he hasn’t even _met_ him. Not really.

He spent the week bouncing between choices, different ideas and scenarios flitting through his mind as he tried to think each one through. Thinking had never really been his strong suit, though, so he always found himself spiraling downwards, thinking of the absolute worst case for each one, which was supposed to be _Taejoon’s_ thing, not his. But despite all that, Octavio had reached one absolute, concrete conclusion.

Octavio was going to hurt Hyunjin. No matter _what_ he decided to do, he was going to harm the kid, either by choosing to be in his life and then fucking up, because he was bound to, because he was _Octavio Silva_ , or by choosing to not be in his life at all. It all just boiled down to which way he was more comfortable in hurting Hyunjin with.

Raise a kid that knew he didn’t want it, or hand it off the moment his father got hunted down by the Syndicate to some foster family? Neither of those sounded good to Octavio, but he knew that was what it came down to. Taejoon was alone, and who knew if he could continue doing his weird hacker stuff with a kid in his care, so he couldn't bring them to justice, and then they would...

_Fuck. Don't think like that._

It was for that reason alone that prompted Octavio to almost call him a couple of times. Maybe he was selfish, maybe he was careless, maybe he was a fucking jackass, but there was still a part of him that really liked Taejoon, and liked that his (ex?)-boyfriend had trusted him enough to tell him his whole...secret tragic backstory. He knew Taejoon was going to struggle with juggling both of these aspects of his life, but...so would Octavio. 

He couldn’t do the Games anymore, couldn’t do his stunts or streams if what had happened before Hyunjin had even been born was any sort of indicator. There was already the looming threat that Hyunjin would lose one father to something completely out of his control—what would happen if Octavio _did_ stick around, and kept participating in the Games, and then one day just...didn’t come home? 

He wasn’t going to give the Games up. He’d already done that, and his boredom had become an unbearable sensation that clawed at him from the inside. Maybe he would put a stop to the stunts he did at home and keep it to the Games, but there was no way he would sacrifice anything more for the kid. 

Their PCs were set up in a separate room, so he could maybe keep streaming, though he didn’t know how soundproof the room was. Would his viewers be able to hear Hyunjin screaming like kids tended to do? Would he have to explain that? 

What would Hyunjin even call him if he came back? First of all, he had two dads, so one of them was gonna be ‘dad’ and the other one was gonna be something boring like ‘father’. What was the Korean word for dad?...and no way he was letting Hyunjin call him padre, cuz he called his own old man that...maybe Hyunjin would just call him ‘Octavio’. He called his own mother by her first name, so...wait, why was he actually considering this? Why was he imagining life as a dad? How long until his _own_ dad found out about this?

Octavio gave a groan, letting his head fall forward and hit his metal knee with a dull noise. He’d been taking his leg apart to keep himself occupied while his mind wandered, which was dangerous to do, as evidenced by the train of thought he’d just had.

He was going to be a shit dad, so it didn’t _matter_ what the fuck Hyunjin would call him, because he wasn’t going to go back. He _wasn’t_.

So why the fuck hadn’t he just told Taejoon that already?

 _You know why,_ a tiny, annoying voice said in the back of his brain. A voice accompanied by every memory he had of kissing Taejoon, laughing at him, the way he would place his hand gently on his stomach when trying to feel Hyunjin moving around, of the Games they played where they had each other's backs, their synergy improving with every victory.

There was a metal clicking sound to his left that broke him away from his thoughts as he glanced over at the front door. Anita hadn’t come back for the weekend yet; it was currently Sunday morning, when normally they were let off Friday night. She hadn’t texted him or anything, either. He probably should have been concerned, but she was a grown woman. She could handle herself.

The door opened and she stepped inside the house, not even looking in his direction as she turned and locked the door behind her. She was wearing a tank top and cargo pants, which was more casual than he normally saw her. He could see her dogtags hanging from her neck.

“You’re still here?” Was what Anita greeted him with when she finally looked over at him, her keys dangling from her fingers.

“ _Hola_ to you too,” Octavio replied, tart, as he tapped the screwdriver in his hand lightly against his leg. He eyed the overnight bag tucked beneath her arm, and allowed a grin to creep onto his face. “Now where were _you_ , amiga? Wait, lemme guess—Loba’s ship?”

Anita looked down at her bag, as if suddenly realizing it was there, before giving a huff and hefting it over her shoulder, stalking past him.

“Have you talked to Kim, yet?” 

He ignored her question, grin widening. “If it wasn’t Loba’s place, then it was Ramya’s. Are you _that_ tired of me?”

Anita shot him a look over her shoulder as she set her bag down on her dining table, faintly annoyed. “We gonna keep dodging each other’s questions?”

“I’m not dodging anything,” Octavio lied, bending his head again to keep making adjustments to his leg. Ignoring the fact that his hands were trembling. “Look, if you’re _that_ bothered by me staying here, I can just find a hotel.”

“It’s not like that. She just invited me over for the night,” Anita said, taking the bait.

“That was _more_ than a night.” His leg fell away completely from the socket as he undid the wrong screw. _Oops_.

She slapped her hand against his back, so sudden that he jumped a little, the head of the screwdriver scratching against the metal of his leg; he hadn't realized she'd approached him. Looking up, he met her sharp gaze. It seemed like she was trying to burn holes into him.

“What’s the deal with you and Kim?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” Octavio lied again, averting his eyes and refocusing on his leg. He wondered what she would say if she found out he'd had a freakout over elbowing some kid in the face. “So was it a platonic night out or..?”

Her nails dug into his shoulder, and he winced. “Stop trying to change the subject. Don’t make me tell Che.”

He maneuvered himself out from beneath her grip, scooting past the remains of his leg as he gave her a look. Was she saying that Ajay didn’t know yet? Or was she just saying she would tell Ajay where he was staying, and then she’d come hunt him down?

"What?"

"I said, don't make me tell Che _._ "

"Does it matter if I talk to him or not?"

"That's how communication works, so _yeah._ "

Octavio scowled. "Whatever."

“Alright, Silva, I’m going to be straight with you.” Anita stepped over the mess on the floor, standing before him now and looking down. Octavio had always scoffed in the face of authority, but Anita honestly scared him more than any teacher or police officer he’d ever met. “You can't keep stayin' here, wasting your life away and feeling sorry for yourself over a _man_. You’re gonna get up, you’re gonna go to the house you _both_ share, and you’re gonna talk this over like _grown men_.”

“Says _who_?” Octavio asked, indignant.

"Says me." God she sounded like such a drill sergeant.

"You can't make me do anything."

“Che doesn’t know yet.” Anita’s eyes narrowed as his widened. “And she’ll raise hell once she does. Get off your ass and go.”

He was _not_ ready to see Taejoon right now, but he was _also_ not ready to get yelled at by Ajay, who had known him longer than anyone else and would be able to see right through him, see the fears and doubts and anxieties he tried to keep in a bottle. The fact that she didn’t seem to know explained why she hadn’t sent him a furious text yet, at least.

“Right _now_?” He asked, his voice coming out in a petulant whine that he wasn’t particularly proud of. “ _Today_?”

“Right now. Today.”

“But—” He searched for an excuse, and his mind instantly came to the pain between his legs he’d been feeling ever since he left the hospital. “I can’t walk. Honest.”

“I’ll drive,” Anita said simply. _Fuck._

It was clear she wasn't going to let up, so his mind was already hurriedly coming up with other ways that he could get out of this. He could maybe just wait around in the lobby and _pretend_ he had done it? Security might kick him out, though; since he’d stayed up in the penthouse nearly his entire time living there, not wanting to be seen, he doubted that they would recognize him as a tenant of the building...

Anita nudged his thigh with her boot. "Up."

"Do I have to?" He asked, sounding even more childish than before. Anita nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, her dogtags catching the overhead light.

"You don't have a reason to _not_ do it."

He bit back his words as he managed to get his leg back on, screwing everything into place. He tried to keep his mind from wandering again, especially now that Anita was watching him—he didn’t want her to know about his train of thought, either. He didn’t tell many people the extent of what his childhood had been like, and telling her that one of the main reasons he was trying to avoid this subject entirely was to not end up like his dad would require a _lot_ of backstory he wasn’t ready to give.

“Why do you even care?” He grumbled when they stepped out of the townhouse. “Weren’t you the one who said we were incompatible, anyways?”

“You’re crashing at my place, dumbass.” He watched her shoulders heave with a sigh, before she turned to face the parking garage across the street. “ _And_ you’ve got a kid.”

They didn’t say anything to each other after that. He didn't really want to talk about _that_ with her. Snarky comments about Taejoon? Fine. But discussing Hyunjin with her? He'd rather die.

As they drove down the orderly, spotless streets of Athens, he found his mind drifting to everything that had happened these past few months. How he’d had to cut back on his stim, his caffeine, and the things that interested him. How Taejoon had dropped out of the Games for him and for Hyunjin, despite his participation being directly tied to his goals.

If they got back together, would they both return to the Games, or would Taejoon find some other way to worm into the Syndicate? Would they alternate seasons so that one of them had to watch over Hyunjin while the other participated? If so, then what was the point of getting back together if they were just going to be apart again?

He kept coming up with reasons that he shouldn’t even return, excuses as to why this was doomed to fail, but he still couldn’t find it within himself to tell Taejoon goodbye. Despite the faults he found in the idea of staying as Hyunjin’s father, he still chickened out every time he went to type the message. _I can’t do this, I won’t ever be able to, I’m—_

He bit on the inside of his cheek as they slowed to a stop at a spotlight three blocks down from his building. He saw a man with vibrant red hair pushing a stroller down the street, his young daughter holding a stuffed giraffe. He looked away from them, focusing on some spot on Anita’s dashboard instead. He swore he could feel her eyes on him.

When they finally stopped outside the building, Anita put the car into park and commanded,

“Out.”

Octavio looked over at her, seeing that she was being serious about this. She was one of the few people he respected and bothered listening to (most of the time), but in this situation he just wanted to tell her _no_ , _I’m not one of your soldiers, and I’m not gonna follow your orders_ —but those snarky words died in his throat, and what came out instead was,

“Would you give everything up for Loba?”

He had no idea where it came from, and apparently she hadn’t seen that coming either, because her mouth parted slightly in surprise. He watched her clench her jaw, not knowing what answer she would give him. Everyone knew that Anita was in the Games to get back to her home planet, but Loba seemed at home having _no_ home. 

They were...A Thing, sort of. Really close. Would she give up that goal for Loba and stay here? Gridiron was something like twenty years away from the Outlands. Would _Loba_ give up on having no home in order to make one with Anita on Gridiron? One of them would have to lose _something_ in their relationship. So which would it be? Loba's freedom or Anita's home?

“Not everything,” Anita finally answered him, her voice a lot quieter, gentler, than it had previously been. “You shouldn’t think of relationships like that, where someone has to give everything up. It _should_ be about compromise.”

"What if you can't do that?"

Anita gnawed on her lower lip, brows furrowing in thought as her eyes slid from him to where her hands were placed on the wheel. Her next answer seemed a little more uncertain.

"It'll work, somehow. When people love each other...or just _care,_ they learn to give up things. But it's not really just _giving up._ " She glanced at the strange bracelet made of bottle caps hanging from her rearview as she said this. He'd asked her what it was, once. She'd told him to shut up. "It's... _support._ "

She paused again, and he waited for her to continue, his leg bouncing due to his nerves. It almost seemed like she wanted to say more, but after a short bout of silence she suddenly unlocked the doors and muttered,

“Go. I’ll wait for you here in case it crashes and burns."

"Of course it will," he said, only half joking as he got out of the car, blinking in the bright sunlight. He heard her scoff. "It's me."

He hesitated as he went to close the door.

“Thanks,” he said. For answering his question. Not the fact that she’d driven him here, because fuck her for making him come here, but still.

She seemed to understand that, because she pressed her lips into a thin line before giving a nod of her head. “Now stop bringing Loba up every conversation.”

He shut the door with a smirk, a smirk that quickly faded when he turned to face the sleek building before him. It was nowhere near the tallest building he’d seen in his life, but right now it seemed to loom over him, impossibly high. The final dungeon.

He _could_ just run away. Take the back door and then pretend that he’d gone through with it. What was the point in even coming here, anyway? He hadn’t come to a decision yet. What the hell was he going to say when he showed up at Taejoon’s door? Fuck, what would he do if he was holding the _kid_?

What if he needed help and asked Octavio to hold Hyunjin? What the fuck would he do then? Octavio wasn’t a fucking coward (liar), he could handle holding an infant for two seconds (liar), but what if he hurt Hyunjin like he’d hurt that kid at the trampoline park? He didn’t know anything about holding babies. Weren’t their heads like, really soft, or something?

_You're gonna fuck up you're gonna hurt him you're gonna hurt Taejoon cuz that's what you do, because you're Octavio Silva and you're just like your dad and..._

He blinked, realizing that he had somehow made it into the lobby of the building without realizing it, having zoned out. He punched the code into the elevator, having to do it twice because he forgot the final digit the first time. He felt as though one of the security guards were watching him. This was the first time he’d been in the building looking normal and not, well, pregnant.

When the elevator reached the penthouse he considered just hightailing it out of there again. He’d stolen a car before and could do it again. He could run away and get off-planet before Anita (and Ajay) caught up to him, and then...

Okay, he knew he was being ridiculous now. He shook his hands out, trying to stop them from trembling so much, as they tended to do whenever he had nervous energy. It was just a talk. He didn’t even have to go _into_ the apartment. He could just stand outside and say...

Fuck, what the _hell_ was he supposed to say?

He knocked on the door before he could chicken out, swaying where he stood, unable to stand still. His own key to the apartment had been left here when he’d gone to the hospital, so he didn’t have a means to get in. He stood there, waiting, for about ten seconds. Maybe Taejoon wasn’t home! That was...good! He didn’t know what he was going to say, didn’t think he could face Taejoon With A Kid™ right now, he was shaking really bad and...

And, because the universe hated him, the door opened.

Taejoon stood in the doorway looking...not _good_ , but not _horrible_ , either. His hair was falling into his eyes, though Octavio didn’t remember it getting that long. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in a while, and he just generally had the distinct look of someone _exhausted_.

Octavio stared up at him, frozen, trying to think of what to do, what to _say_ , fuck he hadn’t planned this far ahead, was he supposed to just say _hey_ or get straight to the point, what if Taejoon just slammed the door in his face, how was he supposed to interpret the series of emotions on the other man’s face right now, what if he—

“Hey,” Taejoon said it first, his voice sounding strange. Like he didn’t know what to do either. 

“Hey,” Octavio said back. Equally as strange. His own voice sounded faraway in his ears.

"You look...nice."

"You look like shit." Why did he say that.

The other man let out a breath that could have either been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. Octavio wasn't sure which. "Thanks."

Taejoon opened the door even further, about to invite him inside, before returning it to its original position, as if changing his mind—before opening it wider once again. Indecisive.

"Whatcha doin'?" Octavio asked, feeling _entirely_ too casual right now, but fuck, was he supposed to just break into tears on the doorstep or something? He didn't know how to start conversations like this, when things needed to be _said_ but he didn't know what those things _were._ Just knew they were important.

“Um...” Taejoon wasn’t looking at him anymore, now staring at some point by Octavio’s elbow instead. “I was about to give Hyunjin a bath. So.”

Was he being dismissed before their conversation could even begin, or was this an invitation? Was he expected to help with that? Did Taejoon expect him to back up and leave? Was this a test? Why were his hands shaking so much?

“You want me to come in?” Octavio asked, voice now straining just a bit. Around the edges, where it was hardest to control and maintain this fake aura of casualness.

“It’s _your_ house,” was Taejoon's non-answer.

"Do you _want_ me to come in?"

He watched the other man bite the inside of his cheek, shifting on his creaking metal feet with nerves. His brows were furrowed in that familiar cute expression of his; he'd forgotten how much he'd liked seeing Taejoon's stupid face. _Yes. Please say yes._

Taejoon opened his mouth, silent for another long, agonizing second. Octavio could see that his nails were digging into the door. Finally, in a voice that sounded strangely fragile, he said,

"I do."

Fuck.

Octavio took a step forward, and Taejoon didn’t back away. Another step, followed by another, and then he was throwing his arms around him, spurred on by the thought that _fuck_ , he hadn’t seen him in _weeks_ , and the last time they’d talked hadn’t gone so well but Taejoon hadn’t slammed the door in his face yet and he’d _missed_ him. Because he liked him. A _lot_.

Loved, maybe, but that was a _scary_ fucking word. When Taejoon hugged him back, though, his hands coming to a rest on his lower back and waist, he thought to himself that it might be the _right_ word, as terrifying as that prospect seemed.

Fuck, his eyes were burning right now. Was he really so lame that he wanted to cry after getting hugged by his (ex?) boyfriend for the first time in weeks, no, _months_? It was hard to hug someone with a baby bump in the way. When was the last time they’d _actually_ hugged? He liked hugging, liked hanging off people and being annoying, reveling in the fact that they usually ended up hugging him back. When's the last time Taejoon had wrapped his arms around him and Octavio had buried his face in his neck, comforted by the familiar smell of the detergent on his shirt?

When Octavio finally let his arms drop back to his sides Taejoon let go of him as well. He instantly mourned the loss, despite being the one to break their contact first. 

Maybe...maybe he could put up with a baby for a few minutes, at least, if he got to see Taejoon and talk to him like normal. His earlier fears had fled after being held by the taller man, having missed being in contact with him, missed that short time in January and February they’d had together before it had all changed. Even if the thought of Hyunjin terrified him—maybe he could put up with it for a few minutes. Just to see Taejoon.

He was desperate, pathetically so. But Taejoon seemed just as willing, his lips parting as he reached up to cup Octavio’s face, fingers gentle—

And then his hand dropped. “Are you coming inside?”

Octavio had leaned into his touch, but at this question he took a step back, the increasingly familiar and unwelcome feeling of anxiety making itself known once again as it dug its claws into him. One part of him wanted to say no, because he still had no idea what he was going to say, if he was going to say anything at _all,_ and he didn't want to be confronted by Taejoon on the subject yet. Didn't want an argument or to be faced with responsibility and didn't want to admit that he was scared of...a lot, right now.

But he also didn't want to go another day without seeing Taejoon, without talking to him, without _touching_ him.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice still coming out strange. He stepped past Taejoon into the apartment even as a part of him begged for him to run, to get far, _far_ away from everything this place represented. To turn tail and bolt.

 _Chill out,_ he told himself, as Taejoon shut the door behind them. It was just a baby. His baby, and his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bangalore is my 2nd fav so shes included in this fic entirely as fanservice for me. thank you mikewritesthings. you're welcome mikewritesthings!
> 
> IM SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE i started writing this during my feb break but then the texas winter storm happened and . no power . and ive been so tired since it happened im fucked up permanately i think LMAO
> 
> anywayz...sorry for the .... brief / rushed chapter ?¿ i spent a couple days editing it but. @-@ i'll try to wrap this shindig up next chapter! thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds this chapter up like those guys who hold up fish in their dating profile pictures*

This was getting to be very awkward.

The room was silent as Taejoon undressed Hyunjin while he lied on a blanket on the floor; he had previously been placed on his stomach, as Taejoon was trying to encourage him to lift his head on his own. Octavio watched him do this from a safe distance, standing behind the couch while Taejoon knelt down on the floor. It was easier to undress Hyunjin down here than it was up on the counter, as he was constantly afraid he would accidentally hurt Hyunjin somehow.

Taejoon watched Octavio out of the corner of his eye as he did this, half-expecting him to disappear as though he were little more than an illusion. He didn't do that, though—in fact, when Taejoon finished, Octavio suddenly pointed at Hyunjin and asked,

“What the fuck is _that_?”

Taejoon shot him a look, wondering if he was trying to joke around or something, but seeing that the other's expression was completely serious.

“...A baby.”

“No, I _know_ that, I’m not—” Octavio rolled his eyes, fists clenching at his sides. “What’s that on its _stomach_?”

Oh. He knew what Octavio meant, now; there was a dry nub right where Hyunjin’s bellybutton should be. “The umbilical cord. It’ll fall off soon.”

“Oh,” Octavio said. “Well. That makes more sense.”

He rose with Hyunjin held in his arms, arching an eyebrow. “Makes more sense than what?”

There came the barest hint of pink in the other man’s cheeks.

“I just thought his junk was in the wrong spot.”

Taejoon bit hard on his tongue, carrying Hyunjin into the kitchen. “You’re... _impossible_.”

The sink had been filled with about a quart of lukewarm water prior to Octavio’s arrival. He placed his hand in it now, making sure it hadn’t gone cold, before gently lowering Hyunjin onto the towel he’d left on the counter beside it.

“You wash it in the sink?” Octavio asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“ _Him_ ,” Taejoon corrected. “He’s too small for the tub. Do you want to help?”

He made direct eye contact with Octavio over his shoulder as he reached for the bath stuff he’d set aside, taking note of the way he seemed to squirm beneath Taejoon’s gaze. 

“It’s a _bath_ ,” Octavio said, looking down at his phone, though the screen wasn't even on. “You don’t need my help.”

That was true. Taejoon exhaled through his nose before reaching for the washcloth and soap he'd prepared. He heard the squeak of Octavio’s joints as he wandered around the apartment, and bit on his tongue to keep himself from making a comment. 

The surge of emotions he’d felt after seeing Octavio for the first time in weeks had come from a place of longing, but now that he’d gotten over the initial shock, those emotions were slowly being replaced by the frustration, bitterness, and impatience he’d become familiar with these past few weeks. There was some mix of relief and happiness inside him, but it was a tough balancing act between those emotions and the ones that had become commonplace.

As he washed Hyunjin he heard Octavio go into his—their—bedroom without asking. Well...did he even need to ask? This was _Octavio’s_ apartment, technically, but he hadn’t been the one living in it, and Taejoon kind of wanted to tell him off for just...

He was being stupid. It was whatever. He didn’t care.

He still found himself looking over his shoulder every now and then to check on Octavio, making sure that he wasn’t getting up to anything. Being distracted, he accidentally got the little nub on Hyunjin’s navel wet, and let out another sigh through his nose as he took the towel and patted the area dry. 

When he finished he wrapped Hyunjin up in the towel, carrying him into their bedroom, where Octavio noticed him coming and immediately stepped backwards with wide eyes, eyeing the bundle in Taejoon’s arms. He set Hyunjin down on the changing table, feeling the need to make a comment as he reached for the clean set of clothes hanging from the side of the crib.

“Are you really that afraid of a child?” Taejoon asked, not looking back at Octavio. He didn’t need to see his face in order to hear the change in his tone—one part indignant, another part...something else.

“You don’t _need_ my help,” Octavio said loudly, almost a declaration.

“Is that the decision you came to?” A simple question. He wanted his answer now.

Octavio’s voice changed again. Taken aback, if it was even possible for him to sound that way. “No, that’s not what I—”

“Then have you decided to stay?”

Octavio huffed, clearly getting irritated with him, which Taejoon thought was deserved. He wanted him to feel a fraction of what he had these past few weeks.

“No, I haven’t decided _anything_.”

Taejoon finished getting Hyunjin dressed, lifting him carefully from the table and placing him in his crib, since it was about his naptime. “How surprising.”

“Are you just gonna be an asshole the whole time I’m here?” Octavio demanded, sounding a little closer than before. Taejoon rounded on him, so suddenly that the shorter man took a quick step backwards, as if expecting him to do something. Taejoon raised an eyebrow before gesturing towards the door, making it clear that he wanted Octavio to follow him out.

“I made _one_ comment," Taejoon said as the shorter man passed by him, before shutting the door to his room gently, leaving Hyunjin inside to nap.

They stood several feet apart from each other in the living room, feeling more like strangers than lovers. Taejoon watched Octavio glare, eyes flickering from him to the room they’d just come out of. His shoulders were stiff and his fists still clenched; he looked about ready to fight. This conversation was really getting nowhere, so Taejoon took a deep breath before forcing himself to sound a little lighter.

“How have you been?”

“Fine,” Octavio murmured, stilted. “Just crashing at Anita’s place.”

“How’s that working out?” He couldn't imagine that she was thrilled by that.

“She made me come here.”

Oh. Well, that explained a lot. “So you don’t have anything to tell me, then?”

“What do you _want_ me to say?” Octavio asked, sounding frustrated as he brought his hands up to his chest, cracking his knuckles and messing with his fingers—a familiar nervous habit to Taejoon. “Do you want me to say sorry? Because I’m _sorry_ for being a jackass. I’m _sorry_ for snapping at you and just in general being a bitch."

He wasn’t looking at Taejoon as he said this, still digging his nails into his palms. Taejoon was reminded of the fact that Octavio wasn’t really one to apologize. The number of times in his life he’d genuinely tried to apologize could probably be counted on one hand, so Taejoon wasn’t really concerned if Octavio wasn’t meeting his eyes as he said this. The fact that he said ‘ _sorry_ ’ at all was something of a miracle.

That didn’t mean Taejoon was going to let him off easy, though. “Okay. I forgive you for that. Is there anything _else_ you want to tell me?”

He watched Octavio flinch at his wording, clearly unsure how to react. Taejoon waited for an answer, but wasn’t expecting his own question to be turned around on him.

“Is there anything _you_ want to tell _me_?”

Octavio had clearly just flipped it on him in order to buy himself some time, but Taejoon still took pause as he debated on whether or not he should be truthful with him and tell him everything that had happened with Mila. Octavio didn’t know the position he was in yet, nor the position he was actively putting him in with his inaction. Taejoon couldn’t blame him for that specifically. It was his own fault for hiding so much.

 _‘I think you two should try talking to one another’_ , Natalie’s voice echoed in his mind. He gave a sigh, running his hand through his hair as he walked past Octavio and sat down on the couch. The younger man didn’t follow, still just standing there as he watched Taejoon with narrowed eyes. Clearly not sure what to make of his silence in response to his question.

Taejoon looked up at him, locking eyes, and didn’t break that contact for several seconds. Octavio didn’t, either, almost staring back in challenge as Taejoon tried to think of a way to describe his situation simply. They finally broke eye contact when Taejoon looked down at his hands and said,

“Mila wants me to give up.”

There was silence. Then, a little unsure, Octavio asked,

“Your sister?”

He nodded.

“She wants you to give up what?”

“Everything,” Taejoon mumbled, bitter, and when Octavio still looked confused he elaborated. “My search, my identity, my revenge, my mother, and her. She wants me to give it all up and focus on _you_.”

“Oh.” Octavio’s voice sounded strangely small, unlike anything Taejoon had ever heard from him. He glanced from his hands to the other man, trying to gauge his reaction, but Octavio was just staring at the floor with somewhat glazed eyes, as if thinking. Was that a good sign, or had he just zoned out?

“So basically, I’ve been given two choices.” Taejoon continued, still looking at Octavio and waiting for any change in his expression. “I can listen to her and give up being Taejoon Park, and become Hyeon Kim, or I can continue doing what I’m doing and get my life back.”

That was an oversimplification of things, but if Octavio hadn’t zoned out yet then he most certainly would if Taejoon went into detail. He watched the younger man shift slightly on his feet, still staring at the floor, before eyeing the wall beside them, as if having realized Taejoon was watching him but not wanting to risk eye contact.

“What do _you_ want to do?” Octavio asked slowly.

“I want to keep doing what I’m doing,” Taejoon answered.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because as long as you’re away I have no choice but to give up.”

Saying that out loud, Taejoon realized he'd already basically made his choice, and it all now depended on what _Octavio_ decided. It would be hard for him to pursue everything if he was Hyunjin's sole caretaker, but if he had Octavio with him, he would most certainly try to get his life back. He wanted to live _normally,_ and for that to eventually be a possibility he needed to clear his name. He couldn't do that without Octavio—he needed him.

“Oh.” From the way Octavio said that, it sounded like he had reached that conclusion too. His (ex?) boyfriend fiddled with his hands once more, still trying his best to not meet his eyes. Taejoon finally looked away from him, focusing on his own hands as he heard Octavio’s joints squeak, like he was shifting on his feet again. There was an awkward energy in the air now.

“Tae—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Taejoon cut him off sharply "Don’t tell me you want to stay because you feel _bad_ for me.”

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Octavio said, but when Taejoon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye he saw that his ears had turned red from embarrassment. 

“If you’re going to stay, I want you to stay because you're going to _try_ , Octavio,” Taejoon told him, leg bouncing a little from nerves, feeling anxious the more he just sat there. “I _want_ you to stay, but not just for me. For your son, too."

Octavio opened his mouth, as if to protest, but Taejoon cut him off again. "Yes, _your_ son. He’s just as much yours as he is mine.”

“I haven’t even _held_ him,” was Octavio's response, like that was supposed to refute his statement. Taejoon stood up, so suddenly that the shorter man backed away from him for the second time, clearly alarmed.

“He’s in the next room.” Taejoon gestured towards the closed door, his heart beating fast with anxiety, still. “You could change that right _now_.”

“But I don’t want to,” Octavio said, sounding frustrated as he stared hard at Taejoon’s chest. “I don’t know how to hold a baby. I’m gonna—”

“You’re _not_ going to hurt him.”

“Yes I _will_.” For some strange reason, Octavio’s eyes looked wet. “I hurt a kid the other day.”

Frowning at this, Taejoon tried to think of what he could be referring to, before asking, “How?”

“I don’t know, I just went to this place and there were kids there and they wanted a picture with me and then the small one was crying and—” Octavio’s voice cracked, and then he was spinning on his heel to turn away from Taejoon, hissing out a low _‘mierda’_.

Realizing with a jolt that Octavio had started crying out of nowhere, Taejoon held out a hand, hesitant, before placing it on the shorter man’s shoulder. He tried to turn him around to face him, but Octavio was resistant to his touch, pulling himself out from beneath his grip. Okay, so _that_ was something that was clearly bothering him. That was...a start.

“Stupid—” Octavio huffed, raising his hands to his face and scrubbing. “Fucking _hormones_ or something, I keep crying for no reason.”

Taejoon remembered something Mary had told him. “You could have postpartum depression.”

“Don’t say that,” was the hiss he got in response. Taejoon held his hands up in surrender, even though Octavio couldn’t see it.

“I was just saying that—never mind. Octavio, you’re _not_ going to hurt him. Not if I’m there with you.” He had changed his tone to something more gentle, trying to coax the other man into finally holding Hyunjin after all this time. He wasn’t sure _why_ it was so important to him, but he just wanted to see Octavio hold Hyunjin at least _once_.

It was something he’d imagined in the months leading up to Hyunjin’s birth, one of those silly fantasies people get when imagining the good things in their life, like having kids and owning a house and getting married. He wanted to see Octavio hold their child, acknowledge that it was _theirs_ in the first place and not just _his._

There was a very long stretch of silence before Octavio finally turned around to face him, looking wary. Was it strange to think that his eyes looked pretty after crying?

“I don’t wanna,” Octavio said quietly, a repeat of the hospital. Taejoon reached out, touching his wrist gently with two of his fingers—right over his pulse, like Octavio had done to him that one time, months ago. He could feel his heartbeat beneath his fingertips, rapid despite his forced aura of calm.

“Please.” Taejoon let his fingers trail from his wrist and up his tattooed arm, before placing them on Octavio’s jaw, and just as he had done out in the hallway, Octavio leaned into his touch. “For me?”

It was almost a test. Doubt niggled at the back of his mind, the idea that Octavio didn’t really care for him anymore, and some part of him told him that the other’s response would help him decide if that was true or not. If he said _yes_ , then he would know that it wasn’t hopeless, that he wasn’t a _complete_ fucking fool. If he said _no_ , then...while that didn’t rule out the possibility entirely, it would no doubt just make him even more paranoid.

He could see a lot happening on Octavio’s face. He’d always been very expressive, whether it be the subtle shifts of his facial features or the inflection of his voice; he was an open book, so to speak, and there were few times that Taejoon had thought of his expression as unreadable. 

Finally, after the tension had built into a ball so large in his chest that another rubber band would simply make him snap, Octavio finally said, “Okay.”

Taejoon smiled at him, though he wasn’t sure if that helped matters, because the other man just flinched in response. He led him quietly to their bedroom, hoping that Hyunjin hadn’t fallen into sleep yet. Bending over the crib after telling Octavio to go wash his hands, he touched Hyunjin’s palm gently. Tiny fingers wrapped themselves around his pinky as Hyunjin opened his eyes, looking up at him.

“Hey,” Taejoon said quietly, though he suddenly felt self-conscious when he felt Octavio’s eyes on him, having come back from the bathroom. Talking to his son was something normal to him by now, but Octavio didn't understand that yet. Taejoon picked Hyunjin up, cradling his head, but unfortunately he started crying, making him feel a bit of dread; it would be harder to convince Octavio to hold a crying infant.

“Why’s he crying?” Octavio asked, sounding just a bit freaked out. He had taken several steps away from them, like he thought Taejoon was about to hand Hyunjin to him while he was bawling.

“Sometimes he just cries,” Taejoon said, because he’d fed Hyunjin right before bathing him, so he couldn’t be hungry. “He’s not hurt or anything.”

He swayed gently, holding Hyunjin’s head in order to not rock him too much. He wanted to speak to him as he normally did, but his skin was prickling beneath Octavio’s gaze. He knew he shouldn’t feel so self-conscious, but he felt like Octavio would poke fun at him for it later or something. 

Taejoon liked holding his son, even while he was crying. He was small, almost impossibly so, while also being warm and soft beneath his touch. It was almost scary how much bigger Taejoon felt compared to him, but it served as a reminder to be gentle and slow with his movements.

It took a couple of minutes, but Hyunjin eventually calmed down. Taejoon then turned to face Octavio, who was staring at them both with wide eyes. He almost looked terrified, which was a strange expression to see on him, making Taejoon feel a bit disconcerted. For a moment he was almost hesitant to hand Hyunjin over to him, sharing Octavio’s same fears—that the other man, who was normally explosive and reckless, would cause him harm. He shook those fears off, though, knowing it was unfair to Octavio, and he didn’t need to feed into his anxieties about that.

“Hold out your hands,” Taejoon instructed him. Octavio hesitated, before moving until his hands were hovering at about waist-level, not high enough to actually take Hyunjin. Taejoon jerked his chin up, hoping that Octavio would get the message, and he did, raising his hands to his chest, though not far out enough to actually take Hyunjin from him. It seemed that Taejoon would have to lean in very close in order to get Octavio to actually hold him.

He did just that, murmuring quietly to Octavio on just how to handle him— _hold his head carefully, don’t shake him too much, and keep him close to you_. Hyunjin was lifted from his arms, and then Octavio was actually, _finally,_ holding him.

Taejoon took a step back, trying not to let Octavio feel as though he didn’t trust him to hold their son by crowding him. The other man still looked like he was freaking the fuck out, back ramrod-straight and clutching Hyunjin just a little too tightly.

“Relax,” Taejoon said, trying to fight back the funny feeling in his chest that had made its return, because even if Octavio looked like he wanted to run away he was at least doing this. Holding _their_ son. Taejoon thought of what could have been, what _should_ have been, if Octavio had actually done this back at the hospital, but that was in the past, and he did his best to shake off the dregs of bitterness that clung to him as he watched the two of them carefully.

Octavio loosened his hold just slightly, though he still looked very nervous. He wasn’t holding Hyunjin out enough to actually look at him, just had him practically tucked beneath his chin, like if he held him out any more than that he would drop him. 

“How do you feel?” Taejoon asked quietly, slipping his hands into his pockets in order to keep himself from reaching out towards him.

“Um.” Octavio was also very pale. “Like he’s really small.”

“No, how do _you_ feel?”

“I feel like he’s really small,” Octavio repeated. He understood that. It was easy to feel small and insignificant in the universe, but to hold something somehow smaller than you that was also incredibly important could make one feel gigantic. 

"Well, he's cute, right?"

Octavio looked at him funny. "He looks like a baby."

Taejoon smiled at that, feeling a strong urge to wrap his arms around Octavio or otherwise touch him. He bit on the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should tell Octavio that he was doing well—but then Hyunjin moved in Octavio’s arms, causing the other man to suddenly lean towards Taejoon, his words coming out in a rush. 

“Nah, take him, _get him off_.”

He obliged, if a little reluctantly, though there wasn’t much else he could do when Octavio was practically trying to dump a baby in his arms. He’d wanted this to last a little longer, but it was evident that Octavio was terrified of the movement in his arms, and couldn’t handle holding Hyunjin any longer.

He shifted Hyunjin in his arms before setting him back in his crib, hoping they hadn’t riled him up by holding him for a little bit. If luck was on their side he would go right back to sleep, or at least stay quiet.

Octavio was out the door before he had even finished setting Hyunjin down. Taejoon looked down at Hyunjin, sighing, before following the other man. He closed the door to his room behind him before turning to look at Octavio, seeing that he was pacing around the living room, brows furrowed. He almost seemed upset.

“Octavio—” Taejoon began, wondering what had gone wrong, but the other man interrupted him.

“I’m _sorry._ " Octavio sounded strange. “I’m sorry for—I’m sorry for the hospital and I’m—”

He hiccupped, and Taejoon realize with dread that he was crying again, though this time it seemed a lot worse. He didn’t really know how to handle that, because Octavio just _didn’t_ cry. He could handle _children_ crying just fine, but Octavio was an adult and the methods for calming a toddler had to be much, _much_ different from that of a twenty-five-year-old man.

Octavio ran his hands through his hair, lips thinned into a line as he looked to the side. He was taking deep breaths through his nose, clearly trying to get his crying under control. “I’m _sorry_ about the thing with your sister. I wanna stay for you but I—”

“Don’t stay for _me_ ,” Taejoon interrupted him, his voice coming out strained because seeing Octavio cry kind of made _him_ want to cry as well. It had always been like that when Mila cried too—she didn’t cry often when they were kids, but whenever she _did_ he often found himself crying too even if he didn’t really know the reason. “That’s how we got into this in the first place. I want you to stay for me _and_ for him.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Octavio’s voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat audibly before scrubbing his hands down his face, trying to wipe the evidence of his tears away. “Like—what am I supposed to _do?_ Can I go back to the arena? Can I still do the stuff I like? Can I still take stim? Can I still stream for my fans? What would I _do_?”

“We could work that out,” Taejoon said, fighting back the urge to say _that was the stuff you should have figured out months ago_ ; it was becoming increasingly clear that Octavio had simply put off thinking about the future for as long as possible, and now that ‘the future’ was their present he was going through the thought process he _should’ve_ had at the beginning before even _making_ his choice. 

He approached Octavio, grabbing hold of his wrists in order to pull them away from his face. The shorter man was staring at the ground, still taking deep, slow breaths to keep himself calm. It was evident that he was embarrassed by his crying, and that made Taejoon feel the slightest bit better, knowing they were probably genuine and not some sort of guilt-trip tactic.

“I’m not going to make you become a different person, Octavio. I want you to _stay_ Octavio Silva, and _I_ want to stay Taejoon Park.” He slid his fingers from Octavio’s wrists to take his hands into his, pulling them down so that their clasped hands were between them. “We could do that together. But I need you to stay because of _Hyunjin._ ”

Octavio stared down at their hands, eyes a little glazed over, and Taejoon wondered if he would need to repeat himself in case he had zoned out. He wanted to reach up and brush away a strand of hair falling into Octavio's face, but before he could, Octavio was slipping his hands from his and taking a step back.

“Next Saturday.”

Taejoon raised an eyebrow at this, waiting for him to elaborate, but it didn't come, so he asked, “Next Saturday what?”

“That’s your birthday.” It was less of a question and more of a statement. To be completely honest, Taejoon was a bit surprised that Octavio had remembered that at all. 

_("How old are you, again?" Octavio asked, rolling his knife across his fingers while Taejoon watched—not because he was impressed, or anything, but because he could not believe that Octavio had brought a fucking knife when they were having sex._

_"...Thirty-one," Taejoon mumbled quietly, remembering the day before. Spent mostly alone except for the day's match, in which he'd suffered a broken nose. "My birthday was yesterday."_

_"_ Thirty-one? _" Octavio paused, his knife falling onto the bed. "You fucking_ hag _."_

_Taejoon hit him.)_

"What about my birthday?" He asked, confused.

“Can you give me until then?”

He was a bit taken aback by this. He hadn’t really been expecting an answer, had honestly though Octavio would say that he didn’t _know_ what to do or that he couldn’t do it all, so he was surprised that he was taking...a _small_ bit of initiative. It wasn’t much, but it was a self-imposed deadline instead of him just walking around in an infinite circle of _‘let me think about it’._

Taejoon was getting tired of waiting, to be perfectly honest, but with this, at least, he knew the point where the waiting would come to an _end_ , so he took a deep breath before nodding. 

"Okay," he said. "And that's when you'll decide?"

Octavio nodded.

"...Can I ask why it's taking you so long?"

“I don’t wanna be like my dad,” was Octavio's answer, voice low as he kept his gaze elsewhere. It was honestly very strange to see him like this. He almost didn't know what to do.

“You won’t be.” Was that really the reason for his reluctance? Taejoon reached for Octavio’s hands again, but the other man shifted them subtly so that they were held a bit behind his back. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be great. _Soljighi._ ”

He had hoped that that would at least put a smile on Octavio’s face, but he received no such reaction. Taejoon sighed to himself, wondering just _how_ they’d gotten here; he’d always pictured that their first meeting in a while would go a lot differently, with him giving Octavio a piece of his mind, but he hadn’t been expecting Octavio to be like this at _all_. He’d thought, distantly, that Octavio was returning to ‘normal’ without him—acting like he and Hyunjin didn’t exist without a care in the world, but he was now struck with the thought that Octavio might have been thinking about him just as much as _he_ had these past few weeks.

The shorter man was still being strangely quiet, and he felt the need to make him feel better or make him... _not_ like that. Taejoon glanced around them, looking for watchful eyes—out of habit, he supposed—before asking Octavio quietly,

“Can I kiss you?”

Octavio didn’t actually respond; instead, he just instantly wrapped his arms around Taejoon’s neck without a word, as though he'd been waiting for the go-ahead, before pulling him down enough to kiss him. It was...nice. He’d missed this, missed holding Octavio in his arms and doing actual couple stuff with him instead of just snapping at each other and avoiding being in the same room together. He missed how they locked into place like a puzzle, despite all odds, and he missed placing his hands on Octavio's waist and guiding him closer to his body, feeling their combined heat.

When they pulled away, Taejoon decided to push his luck just a bit more, heart thudding in his chest. He'd felt that they'd done _good_ so far, made some progress when that had previously seemed impossible, and he wanted to keep that up before it fell flat on its face.

"Do you want to spend the night?”

He was tired of staring at the empty side of his bed, and Octavio being here within arm’s reach was enough to make him ache. He needed him, even if it was just for a night. Long enough to feel... _content,_ with the choices he’d made thus far.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” Taejoon added, moving his hands from Octavio's waist to his hips, giving him a light, hopefully reassuring, squeeze. Octavio’s own hands slid from the back of Taejoon’s neck down to his chest, resting there for a moment, before dropping entirely. He stared at some point on Taejoon's throat, _at_ him but not making eye contact, before moving himself out from beneath his touch.

“I’ve gotta go tell Anita.” The other man sounded almost back to normal, now. _Almost_ —there was still a certain forced quality to it. “Just the one night. Then I’m going back.”

Taejoon nodded, so Octavio left him alone in the apartment to do just that. Taejoon walked around for a bit, cleaning up after himself as he tried not to think about...well, _everything_. Tried to pull his mind away from the future, and just think about the _now_.

Octavio spending the night with him and Hyunjin...he’d meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t try to make him do anything he didn’t want, but he wondered now if he could, at some point, get him to hold Hyunjin again. Maybe he could play it off as something quick while he grabbed something important— _just for a second, I need to get this._ His hope was that if Octavio stuck around long enough to see that their son wasn’t a fucking bomb about to go off, maybe he would be more open to handling him, to seeing him.

Octavio was gone for so long that Taejoon almost thought he'd bailed on him, heading back to Anita’s place without even bothering to tell him that he’d changed his mind—but just as these thoughts began to cross his mind Octavio came through the front door, murmuring something about _‘never shuts up’._

They both sat on the couch in silence for a couple of minutes after that, Octavio messing with some fidget toy he’d hidden that Taejoon had somehow not found, while he himself tried not to fall too deep into thought lest he became unable to pull himself out. For just one night, Taejoon wanted to stop thinking.

“What do you want for lunch?” He asked when the silence had gone on for quite a while, leaving him almost anxious, which was decidedly a very Octavio-like thing. Maybe he was rubbing off on him.

“Pizza,” was Octavio’s automatic response. “Pepperoni—”

“—and bacon,” Taejoon finished, pulling his phone out. _Bacon_. His enemy.

“...No,” Octavio said, his voice sounding funny again, and when Taejoon looked over he saw that he was staring hard at his fidget toy, thumbs digging into its center harshly, like he was trying to break it apart. “You can pick the other topping.”

Taejoon raised an eyebrow. “Even if it’s, and I quote, _‘fucking gross and lame as hell’_?”

Octavio turned his head away from him pointedly. “Just get the damn mushrooms.”

Their lunch was ordered, and now they were in silence again. Taejoon turned on the TV, trying to get himself to focus on what was going on, but it was really hard to do that when Octavio was _right_ there. He kept expecting to look over and see that he had faded, as though he were little more than a figment of his imagination—but he was still _here_ , and he hadn’t gone anywhere yet. It almost felt surreal.

Sometime after the pizza arrived an alarm on Taejoon’s phone went off to signify one of Hyunjin’s feeding times, and he left the room to do just that, grabbing a washcloth while Octavio stared after him curiously. He did everything in their room, and thankfully this time the process wasn’t very messy. He changed Hyunjin before debating on whether he should bring him out again. Deciding that it would only be for a couple of minutes, he grabbed a blanket as well and re-entered the living room.

He set up on the floor without paying much mind to Octavio on the couch behind him, setting the blanket down before placing Hyunjin on his stomach on top of it. He seemed to like the noise and colorfulness of the TV, so Taejoon set him up like this in the hopes that it would encourage him to move around and lift his head in order to get a better look at it.

“What’re you doing?” Octavio asked, sounding puzzled.

“You don’t want his head to get flat,” was Taejoon’s answer.

“Their heads can get _flat?_ ”

They both watched Hyunjin move his arms jerkily, as if feeling out the area beneath him. He let out a strange little noise that could've perhaps been a coo. “It also helps build muscle.”

Taejoon returned his attention to the movie onscreen—a relatively harmless action flick—and Octavio didn’t ask any more questions. After about ten minutes like this he picked Hyunjin up from the ground and instead held him in his arms, alternating his attention between the movie and playing with his son. He didn’t really have a favorite toy yet—half the time he simply ignored whatever Taejoon dangled in front of his face, and he honestly had better luck with just his fingers. 

Hyunjin eventually fell asleep again, so he put him back down in his crib once more. The rest of the day passed pretty much the same; he would get up to feed him or check up on him while Octavio stayed a safe distance away, the two of them not really talking to each other that much, though it wasn’t like the stiff silences from before the hospital. More...unsure. Tentative. 

He was fine with that. Though they’d kissed earlier, he didn’t quite think he was ready to do anything _too_ intimate. If Octavio tried to lay against him on the couch the way they used to do, he would probably freak out.

For dinner they just had leftover pizza. He watched Octavio peel off the mushrooms from his slice with a pout, an expression he found cute, but chose not to say anything about. When his alarm rang to feed Hyunjin again, Taejoon asked him,

“Do you want to help feed him?”

Octavio glanced over with wide eyes. They hadn’t said anything to each other for nearly an hour, now, so his sudden question must have startled him.

“I’ll do the gross stuff,” Taejoon added. Octavio looked from him to the door, as if actually considering it, but his eventual answer left him feeling disappointed.

“Nah.”

This time, after he had finished feeding Hyunjin, Taejoon decided to take a shower. He needed to wash away the particular grimy feeling one gets after staying up late for so many days, and hopefully today he would get a better night's sleep.

While showering he swore that he could hear Hyunjin crying out, though he wasn’t really surprised—it was around this time that he started getting fussy, after all—but his cries soon faded, so Taejoon didn’t have much to be worried about.

By the time he had stepped out of the shower and gotten dressed, he could distinctly hear Hyunjin cooing in the next room. Frowning, he opened the bathroom door and peered out, seeing something unexpected; Octavio on the floor beside Hyunjin’s crib, poking his finger through the bars. He looked back at Taejoon like a deer caught in headlights, entire body stiff. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither making a move. Octavio was the one who broke it.

“He was crying,” he said, words rushing out with the need to explain himself. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Taejoon got closer to them, and saw that Hyunjin was grabbing onto his finger, curious. He reached down to brush his own fingers against his son's face, smiling when it screwed up into a funny expression.

“He likes it when you talk to him,” Taejoon said as Octavio withdrew his hand. “He likes noise, in general.”

_In other words, you’re perfect for him._

“The opposite of you, then,” Octavio replied. He got to his feet, unsteady, before suddenly stumbling forward and falling right into Taejoon’s chest. Alarmed, Taejoon wrapped his arms around him and tried to hold Octavio upright, but a metal clunking sound alerted him to the fact that one of his legs had just given way.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the shorter man cursed. “Stupid— _son of a bitch._ "

"What happened?" Taejoon asked, alarmed.

"I messed with my leg earlier. I probably put it back on wrong. You still have my tools?”

“I still have _all_ your things,” he said, not sure why Octavio would think that he had thrown any of his stuff out. This was still very much _Octavio’s_ house.

He practically carried Octavio to the bed, setting him down carefully on the edge. He then searched for the tools he used to tinker with his leg, finding them in their closet soon enough. By the time he returned Octavio had lifted his leg up in the air at such an angle that just by looking at him Taejoon felt an ache in his thighs. Octavio had always been very flexible, and seeing him do stuff like that was equal parts impressive and nauseating.

“ _Gracias_.” Octavio smiled at him, which made him feel. Weird. He just handed the tools over to him silently, and didn’t miss the way Octavio’s expression fell. He retrieved Octavio’s leg for him too before sitting beside him on the bed, watching him repair it. It looked like some of the pieces hadn’t been put into place correctly, which led to it eventually detaching from the socket.

By the time Octavio had finished reattaching it, he could tell that the other man was getting anxious again, fingers tapping against the side of his leg incessantly. Taejoon checked the time, seeing that it was late. They would need to work out sleeping arrangements.

“I can sleep upstairs,” he told Octavio quietly as he stretched his leg out, giving it a look. “You can sleep in h—”

“ _I’ll_ sleep on the couch,” Octavio cut him off. Right. Hyunjin was in here. Octavio wouldn’t want to be around him any longer than he had to be.

The other man got to his feet, testing out his weight against his leg, before taking a couple of steps around the room. Seemingly satisfied with himself, he lifted his leg up at that impossible angle again and made Taejoon’s thighs ache just by looking at him once more. Octavio looked back at him with a grin, as if expecting some kind of response, but this expression quickly faded, and he let his leg drop.

“...Taejoon.” The shorter man’s voice sounded a little strained again, like he was forcing himself to sound normal; sometimes when things got serious Octavio tended to smile or laugh, whether it be because of nerves or something else. Right now it sounded like he was trying _not_ to do that. “Do you even... _want_ me back?” 

“I do,” Taejoon said immediately, wondering how he had gotten onto this train of thought. “But...we can't just go back to normal.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Taejoon leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees. “Octavio, I’m going to be perfectly honest—you hurt me. A _lot_. We have some things to work through, because you _never_ wanted to do that with me when we _should_ have.”

Octavio was cracking his knuckles again, deliberately avoiding Taejoon’s gaze, now. 

“Despite all that, I still want you. I _like_ what we had. I like _you_ , even if you’re...” _A lot,_ Taejoon wanted to say, but Octavio finished for him.

“ _Loco_.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“It’s true.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Taejoon said, joining Octavio in standing as well. They both looked towards Hyunjin at the same time, seeing that he had fallen asleep. He gestured for Octavio to follow him out the door, and as soon as it was shut behind him he continued, “Octavio, if we get back together, I need you to work on _you._ You like running away, but you can’t _do_ that anymore.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to change,” Octavio said in an attempt at a joke, but when Taejoon shot him a glare he backtracked. “Okay. _Entiendo_.”

“Have I made myself clear?” Taejoon met his gaze, steady. “If you come back, it’s going to be for Hyunjin, not _just_ me, and if you come back you’re going to try to do better. Do you understand that?”

Octavio nodded, breaking eye contact with him as soon as he did so. Taejoon exhaled heavily, trying to hold back everything that had been bothering him for months. He could talk about that _later_ , if Octavio decided to stay, rather than just wasting his time with him now. 

A few seconds passed before Octavio was turning his back on him and practically collapsing onto the couch, groaning out, “I’m _tiiiiiired_.”

Taejoon watched him take his legs off, wondering if he should offer him his clothes or anything. There was that blanket still on the floor if Octavio got cold, so he didn’t need to get him one...was their conversation over? Were they done here?

Octavio curled up on the couch, wrapping his arms around himself without another word. He supposed they were.

Despite the empty side of his bed it was a bit easier for Taejoon to fall asleep that night, knowing that Octavio was in the next room. Every time he got up because Hyunjin was crying or his alarm had gone off he half-expected Octavio to join him in the room too, perhaps complaining about the noise—but he never did, which he wasn’t all that surprised by. 

At nine in the morning Taejoon got up to make himself breakfast, moving quietly so as to not disturb the other man. He put two pieces of bread into the toaster and grabbed jam from the fridge, some strawberry kind that he and Mila had liked when they were younger. He hadn’t had it in years, finding it a little too sweet for his palette now, but he’d bought some on a whim after seeing it at the grocery store last weekend. Nostalgia reasons.

He wondered if Octavio would like it, and approached the couch to wake him up and ask, but paused when he saw that it was empty, a blanket hanging off its side.

Octavio was gone.

Taejoon retrieved his phone from his bedside table, ticked off, but paused when he saw that Octavio had actually sent him a message about an hour ago, instead of just taking off. He read the messages, a bittersweet feeling clinging to him as he fought back both a smile and a sigh, before he tossed his phone aside.

Well. Six more days. Then, this nightmare of waiting would be over.

Picking Hyunjin up from his crib, he spoke quietly to him, muttering things like ' _good morning_ ' and ' _how are you_ ' even though he couldn't respond yet. Hyunjin gripped his shirt tightly, pulling on it and cooing, which made him smile. If only Octavio had held him like _this_ —where he could see Hyunjin's face—then he would realize that there was nothing to be afraid of. That Hyunjin was just...a baby. A cute one, at that, but he was incredibly biased.

"You think he's going to come back?" He asked Hyunjin, holding him up to his face so that they were almost nose-to-nose. Hyunjin had no response for him. Of course he didn't. Talking just...felt nice. "I think you'll like him."

Hyunjin stared at him, before letting out another coo. No, he was _not_ biased. His son really was just that cute.

* * *

_Octavio: i didnt leave ok nitas doing the games today and picked me up at the ass crack of dawn_

_Octavio: going back 2 her place_

_Octavio: see u next saturday_

_Octavio: love u_

And then, almost as an afterthought:

_Octavio: hag_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soljighi: honestly  
> entiendo: got it
> 
> me: well this should only be 3 chapters :)
> 
> :)
> 
> :)
> 
> * taejoon's half of the chapter takes up over 7k words * Oh No
> 
> SORRY FOR THIS . [ BONKS SELF ON HEAD ]. IM BAD AT SLOWING TF DOWN. MORE CHAPTERS COMING I GUESS DNUDEIDEN
> 
> the. umbilical cord thing is based off smth my brother did to our baby brother when he was born. he was so genuinely confused. comedy gold


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi
> 
> tws: body image / dysphoria for some parts of the chapter

Up until that night with Taejoon, the days spent at Anita’s house had felt unbearably slow. Sluggish, almost, as though time were moving like molasses, even though he had spent a large portion of it asleep in order to avoid having to _think_. 

Now, though, with Taejoon’s birthday waiting for Octavio at the end of the week, time was flying. It felt like he’d blinked on Monday morning and suddenly found himself eating dinner on Tuesday night. Wednesday passed by just as quickly, alarmingly so, and the only explanation he could come up with was the fact that his mind was also moving at a million miles per hour, unable to stop thinking about the conversation they had had.

So he’d ended up being right about Taejoon not being able to pursue his freedom if he didn’t have Octavio by his side, but the whole Mila thing had been unexpected. He hadn’t thought it would be a _one-or-the-other_ type of scenario; he’d thought Taejoon could still do it, albeit with more difficulty, even if he wasn't there to help. But to hear that if Octavio didn’t return he would have to give up his search _entirely_ was. A lot.

Taejoon had said not to make his decision based on just that, to factor Hyunjin into the equation too, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a bit of guilt over the whole thing. Even if he was actively trying _not_ to, because guilt did not bode well with him.

Ajay would probably say something like guilt would do him some good, which...

Oh god. _Ajay_.

Octavio, hanging upside down from Anita’s couch, took a pause from scrolling through his feed in order to check Ajay's most recent message to him.

She’d texted him a couple of times over these past couple of days—questions about how he’s been, jabs about being busy with the baby since he hadn’t responded yet, all that. She wasn’t the only Legend to have messaged him, either; Elliott and Ramya had both texted him, and Makoa had tried giving him a call. He had no idea _why_ they were trying to do it all at once. One part of him was afraid that Anita had told everyone about him staying at her place, but she wouldn’t do that to him.

Probably.

Despite his reluctance, Octavio knew that he wanted to see Ajay at least once before making his decision, because...well, he kind of needed her help. She knew him better than anyone—she could talk him out of whatever horrible choice he was going to make. If he told her that he was considering sticking around with Taejoon and Hyunjin, she’d probably hit him upside the head and tell him _no, you’d be the worst father ever._ And she’d be right.

He hesitated, wondering if he should really text her, because then she would ask him a bunch of questions and figure out something wasn’t right once he started avoiding them—before finally just sighing and sending her a quick message.

_Me: hey can we hang out friday_

_Che: I got practice_

_Che: Same place as usual_

_Che: Can talk to ya after_

_Che: Kim coming?_

_Me: nope_

_Me: just me nd u_

_Me: like old times_

_Che: Guess you’re giving him babysitting duty then_

Octavio tossed his phone aside before she could say anything else, giving a groan. She was _so_ going to kick his ass on Friday.

Sitting up correctly, he reached for one of the cans of soda he’d placed on the end table, fresh from the fridge. This week’s nerves had led to the return of a bad habit—the first thing he did after getting dropped off at Anita’s on Monday was go for a jog, and on the way home he'd stopped by a convenience store and bought three 12-packs of Coke. Lugging those back to her place had _not_ been fun, but he’d worked his way through half of them already, so it wasn’t like they were going to waste.

Draining half the can in one go, he used his other hand to grab the TV remote and flip through the channels, bored. Whatever he decided to do in the Taejoon Situation, whether it be move out or back in, he just couldn’t _wait_ to get his stuff back. His PC, his video games, his skateboard, his Go-Pro...

He paused on some random channel that was on commercial. It was an ad of two men with a little girl between them; she was holding tightly onto their hands. They were swinging her back and forth while a narrator read off the side effects of some over-the-counter drug from his family’s company. _Ugh._ His dad had always liked these stupid feel-good family ads despite never putting an ounce of the effort shown into his _own_ family.

Watching the dads and their daughter was making him feel odd, though, for reasons he didn’t really want to think about, so he changed the channel a couple more times until finding some e-sports event for a game he was mildly interested in.

His mind kept wandering even while watching, to the point that he ended up completely zoning out through a couple of major plays, the people onscreen going nuts while he just sat there not knowing what the hell had happened. He drank the rest of his Coke before crushing the can in his hands just to give his fingers something to do.

_Stop thinking. Stop thinking, idiota._

The more he thought, the more that coming back to it all didn’t seem that bad. Even though it _was_ , because he was not cut out for it—but he missed Taejoon, and Taejoon _needed_ him, and the kid was.. _.not monstrous,_ and they could make it _work_ , Taejoon had said, so he could probably go back to the Games and keep doing his streams, and not a _whole_ lot would change, except for the fact that he would have a son but like that was fine, no big deal, Except It Was, but he would have Taejoon by his side, and had he mentioned that he missed Taejoon a _lot_ and...

At this point, Octavio just didn’t know what he wanted. Everything inside him felt like a jumbled mess, his thoughts little more than a hodgepodge of the things he wanted and the things he feared. Every time he thought he had come to a conclusion some other _‘but what if’_ cropped up, his mind coming up with excuses for everything, or worst-case scenarios. 

The truth was, he didn’t want to make a decision, but he _had_ to. He’d said he would. And now, that deadline was creeping ever closer.

Octavio got up to throw away the five or so cans littered around the couch, just to give himself something to do that wasn’t sitting still. Tossing them one-by-one in the trash, he made a little noise every time he made a successful throw, until he’d done all five of them without missing a single shot. _Fuck yeah._

He wondered if Hyunjin would find that funny. He’d noticed the kid would turn his head towards whatever was making noise, or at least try to. He didn’t know if that was just a baby-in-general thing or something specific to him or what. He didn’t know jack shit about babies.

 _Which is why you can’t do this,_ one part of him said, bringing with it more doubt. This was getting to be annoying. 

Putting Hyunjin and the Taejoon identity thing aside, he also had to think about what his boyfriend had said about him working on...well, him. Octavio would have to be more responsible for shit if he came back, which sounded _awful._ He liked his current lifestyle of eating pizza every day and staying out late and doing crazy stuff. Taejoon had said that he wanted Octavio to stay the same, generally, and that they could work out what he could do in terms of his stunts and all that, but the truth was that if he _really_ wanted him to be—ack, _responsible_ —then a significant part of Octavio was going to have to change.

Right now, this whole situation boiled down to a few questions weighing heavily on his shoulders: _can I take care of a child? Can I change? Can I still be_ me _even while doing something like that?_

His fans were important to him, having been a big part of his life since he was a kid. Would they notice a change in his character, in his content? Would they grow bored of him and leave? Would they call him old and say he wasn’t, y’know, _cool_ anymore?

Octavio turned the TV off, growing more and more annoyed with his inability to Not Think. Turning off his brain was something he was especially good at, and he wanted, more than anything, to do that right _now_ , but his thoughts kept stubbornly returning. Not Thinking probably wasn’t a good idea when he had a choice like this to make, but he’d been Thinking for several days straight and he was _tired_ of it. 

Could he even handle holding Hyunjin again? The kid was _tiny_. He honestly reminded Octavio of Navi in terms of how small he felt. He was just...a little human being. That Octavio would have to take care of, like, _feed_ and all that. He’d watched Taejoon make formula a couple of times. He’d have to learn how to do that, too, and didn’t babies need to be burped? What if Hyunjin puked on him? Why did babies have to be so _disgusting_?

Octavio took a shower, using up all of Anita’s nice soap for no particular reason other than to piss her off. Petty revenge for her forcing him to go to Taejoon’s, though he supposed he should be thanking her. Doing that had at least gotten him out of his funk and helped clear his head. Minimally.

There was still a lot going on in his thoughts, and a big part of him wanted to panic for several reasons, but he was repressing that part of him. Putting it off for the time being. He could freak out _later_ , whenever he _did_ actually make his choice.

Whatever the fuck that choice may be.

* * *

The warehouse Ajay’s band practiced in was old. It’d been here even before the migration down to Athens, part of the ugly, industrial side of the city that nobody actually acknowledged _was_ a part of the city because the elite didn'y want those ugly brick buildings down below associated with pretty, picturesque Olympus. 

Despite the fact that it hadn’t moved or been demolished, it had definitely gotten a makeover some time in the past few years along with the rest of its neighbors in order to be more visually appealing. No longer was it this ugly brick shithole on the verge of collapse, but instead a sleek painted building with a gutted inside. Pretty and empty. Just like the rest of the city.

It had lost all of its charm.

Ajay’s band was still great, though. He didn’t get to watch them practice often, since they traveled all across the Outlands and practiced in several different locations, but they always seemed to return to this warehouse regardless of how many doors had opened up for them in recent years. He liked this warehouse, too—it’d been the first spot he and Ajay had vandalizer together, though he was pretty sure that had been painted over as well.

Octavio came in through the back door with two cups in hand, watching Ajay twirl her drumsticks and crack them together before beginning her drum solo for one of his favorite songs. The other members whooped and cheered her on as she moved, so quick that for a second it almost seemed like she was somehow faster than him. Drumsticks a blur, hands flying, head nodding—and then it was done, finished with a flourish against the cymbals.

The song picked up again, the bassist playing its last few chords as the vocalist sang her ending notes. He could never remember their names, but they all gave him familiar grins.

“That’s a wrap!” Vocalist Lady said loudly, clapping her hands together, before turning to flash him a smile. “ _Heeeey_ , ‘Tav. How’s it goin’?”

“Hola,” Octavio said, trying desperately to recall her name. W...Wendy? Wanda? Whitney? "Uhh..."

Vocalist Lady raised a pierced brow—her’s were rings rather than barbells like his. “You don’t remember my name, do you?”

“Nope.”

“At least he’s honest,” Ajay laughed as she approached, twirling one stick in hand. It wasn’t one of her cool ones, just a plain one. He wondered why she never bothered using her shock sticks when actually playing for the band. “He’s here for _me_ , Rowan.”

Oh fuck he had been _way_ off. 

“Our love remains forbidden,” Rowan said dramatically as Octavio handed Ajay one of the cups he’d been holding. “Farewell, my beloved.”

“Bye,” Octavio said, watching her saunter away towards the rest of the band. He then shot Ajay a look, who gave a guilty smile.

“I haven’t told her you’re gay yet."

“Nah, it’s fine. Boosts my ego.”

“You’re awful. You _could_ just tell her you have a boyfriend.”

His grin slipped from his face as he watched her remove the lid of her cup with raised eyebrows. Octavio had gotten her her favorite coffee, complete with all the creamer and sugar that she liked. She sniffed it before taking a long sip, letting out an appreciative hum. Then, with coffee on her lip, she said,

“No.”

Octavio raised his eyebrows. “No what?”

“Whatever you want, _no_. I know a bribe when I see one, Silva.”

“It's not a bribe!" 

Ajay looked skeptical. “What is it, then?”

 _A gift so you don’t immediately try to kick my ass._ “Can we talk?”

Before she could even say anything, he had grabbed her by her wrist and was pulling her to an empty corner of the warehouse, not wanting to be overheard by her gossipy bandmates. When he rounded on her, he saw that her face had turned from skeptical to fully wary. 

“What’s this about?” She asked, cautious. Octavio took a step away from her, putting himself at a safe distance so that she wouldn't be able to hit him. He then tore off the lid of his own drink—a Coke—took a big sip, and blurted out,

“I left Hyeon at the hospital and we kind of broke up and I don’t know if I want to go back or not because I don’t think I can be a good dad.”

Ajay stared at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted like she didn’t know what to make of him. She shifted her hand and he flinched away from her, but she instead just brought her coffee up to her lips, brow creasing as she glanced towards the other band members, as if checking for eavesdroppers. 

They stood in complete silence for a full thirty seconds, Octavio shifting on his feet anxiously as he waited for her to get _mad_ at him, like she always did whenever he made poor decisions, but she seemed...strangely calm, if not caught off-guard. Finally, when the waiting was starting to get to him and he was on the verge of yelling at her to at least say _something_ , Ajay asked,

“Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded, practically crushing his plastic cup in his hands as he waited.

“I’m really not that surprised.” Ajay frowned down into her coffee, moving her cup back and forth so that it splashed around the edges. “Y’know, I talked to Kim about it, once.”

Well. The fact that this had been expected of him kind of made him feel like shit, but at least she wasn’t going to yell at him.

"Oh.”

“I told him not to be surprised if you get cold feet.” She gave a short chuckle that had little actual humor in it. “I wish I had been wrong, though. So what are you doing now?”

“Well, uh.” Octavio drank a bit more of his soda, just to give him some time to think, before launching into a quick, condensed version of what went on. “Basically, I can either go back or stay the hell away. That’s what he told me.”

Ajay arched an eyebrow. “And?”

He avoided her eyes. “I haven’t chosen yet.”

“Seems to me like you have.”

Frowning, he looked from the floor to her, confused. “No?”

Ajay sighed, kicking an empty box over so that it was now laying on its side. She sat on the edge of the cardboard, somehow managing to balance herself on it without causing it to collapse. She took out her drumstick, tapping it rhythmically against her palm as she frowned, clearly thinking. 

After yet another bout of silence that was driving him up the wall, Octavio repeated, “ _No?_ ”

“What’s your deal?” She asked him, serious. “What’s the idea behind _yay_ or _nay_?”

“Well, if I go back, I’m gonna _suck_ ,” Octavio said slowly, like it was obvious, because he couldn’t believe that she hadn’t come to the same conclusion. “And not just for me. I mean, like, it is gonna suck for _me_ , but it’s gonna suck for Hyunjin, too, because I'm me."

She gestured for him to continue, so he shrugged, sheepish. "I’m gonna have to give up all my competitions and stuff, Che. I don’t wanna do that.”

She nodded, grim, before asking, “And yay?”

“That’s.” Octavio hesitated, staring down into his drink, before shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly. "I mean—I'll get him back. Being with him was cool. I really...I mean, I really liked him."

Liked the way Taejoon touched him, ran his fingers through his hair, kissed him. Liked the way he joked, even if it was lame as hell. Liked the way Taejoon made him feel, as gross as that sounded.

His friend cocked her head to the side. 

"What do you think you're gonna say?"

Octavio pushed all of those memories away. "No."

Ajay scoffed. “You’re not telling him that.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged.

“Yeah. Look, you’re _not_ gonna say no.” Ajay met his gaze, steady and intense, as she pointed one end of her drumstick at him. “Because if that were the case, you would’ve said it already.”

“But—”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, Silva: you’re a spoiled little brat. I’ve known you...what, eighteen, nineteen years? That’s nineteen years of me _knowin_ ’ you inside and out.” Ajay picked up her drink from the floor, observing him over the rim of her cup as she took another sip. He wanted to argue with her, but before he could even get a word out she was continuing.

“You being a brat, it’s always easy to see what choices you’re gonna make. You’re gonna do whatever benefits _you_. You’re gonna do the things _you_ want, and you ain’t gonna give anything that inconveniences you a passing thought. If you _really_ thought that saying no is what you wanted, you would’ve done it already. You would’ve done it a _long_ time ago.”

“The only reason I haven’t said no is because of Tae—” He bit hard on his tongue, so hard that he tasted blood. “Hyeon. Because of Hyeon. That’s the _only_ reason.”

“So why don’t you say yes to getting him back?”

“Because of the kid,” he said, frustrated that she wasn’t _getting it_ , yet. “I don’t _want_ him.”

Ajay arched an eyebrow. “Okay, _Eduardo_.”

He felt his face redden at this jab. “I’m not—”

“You sure are actin’ like him.”

“I don’t wanna be like him.” He drained the rest of his cup, before turning and chucking the crumpled plastic at a distant wall, just for the satisfaction of throwing something. “If I take care of that kid, I know I’m—”

“You’re making excuses, Silva,” Ajay groaned, sounding annoyed. “You’re ten times the man he is, got it? And you’re going to be nothing like him. Not unless you _really_ leave this kid behind because you’re too _chickenshit_ to take responsibility for anythin'.”

She’d gotten to her feet at some point, and he hadn’t even noticed. She placed her hand forcefully on his shoulder, getting him to finally stop moving. “Just give him a chance, O. I think you’ll like bein’ a dad more than you think.”

“How?” He shot back, sour. Her lips twitched into that know-it-all smirk that he'd hated seeing growing up.

“You’ve got so much energy, it’s _exhausting_. A kid’s gonna need a lot of that energy. Betcha you’ll find a way to turn him into a little _mini-Octavio_ , teach him tricks and all that.”

He rolled his eyes at that, biting back the urge to argue. She hesitated in front of him before wrapping one arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a side-hug.

“I know you’re scared," Ajay said, and he let out an indignant noise. "I _know_ this is gonna be a lot of change for you. And I know you're _acting_ like you already know what you want, but you wouldn’t have come here if you really did.”

Octavio returned her hug half-heartedly, letting his hand drop back down to his side while he tried to think of something to say. He knew there was truth to what she was saying—if it had been so simple, if he had known what he’d really wanted, he would’ve just told Taejoon his answer already. But he _didn’t_. Did him not saying no yet meant he really wanted to say _yes_? What if it was the other way around? Why couldn’t there just be one easy, obvious answer? 

“So what am I supposed to do?” Octavio asked quietly, digging his nails into the meat of his forearm as he tried not to look her, lest she try to dig deep into him, see all that had plauged him. Ajay let her hand drop, too, now resting on her hip, as she looked towards her bandmates, talking passionately among themselves.

“I’m not deciding for you.” She then bent down to pick up her coffee, draining the rest of it before wiping her mouth. “You’re a grown man. Nobody’s gonna hold your hand through the process.”

Rowan was jogging towards them now, her normally neat, straight black bob tousled. She was laughing, probably at something one of the other members had said. Ajay lowered her voice as she approached, speaking to Octavio quietly.

“But if you wanna know what I think? I think that boytoy of yours is a godsend. The fact that he’s puttin' up with you being a prat? That’s a _keeper_. You better make it up to him.”

Octavio flushed at this statement, something weird settling in his gut as the weight of everything she said started to sink in.

“Jay-Jay!” Rowan said as she finally reached them, out of breath even though she’d only jogged about a hundred feet at most. “It’s _your_ turn to buy lunch. Me and the others were thinking seafood?”

“Y’all are so predictable,” Ajay groaned, letting her head fall back dramatically. Rowan grinned, winking at Octavio, who still felt slightly off.

“Of course, ‘Tav is welcome to join, if he wants." Her words were a purr. "We could _share_.”

She bounced her eyebrows, and Octavio opened his mouth to say something—hopefully a joke—but what came out instead was,

“I have a boyfriend.”

Slowly, but surely, Rowan’s pale face turned red, a look of horror dawning.

“O-oh," she stuttered. "I—I didn’t know that.”

“It’s a new thing,” Octavio said, forcing a grin. “Um. I’m gonna go call him now, actually.”

Rowan nodded, before turning on her heel and running away without a goodbye. Ajay turned to face him again, shaking her head before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“First of all, you’re _awful_. Second, tell me how it goes. And third: _I know where you live._ 'Member that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Could be.” Ajay smiled, before turning her back on him and walking towards her friends.

Octavio waved goodbye to them before stepping outside of the warehouse using the back entrance he’d come through, reaching for his phone; he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Rowan he was going to call Taejoon.

They’d been...talking. Just a little bit. Brief text messages, just so that things weren’t the exact same they’d been before. A minimal improvement.

He went into the chat app, seeing he had two new messages from Taejoon. One was an image of Hyunjin lying on Taejoon’s chest, fingers in his mouth and watching something that Octavio couldn’t see. The next message was short and simple.

_Hyeon: he stole your spot :)_

It was _clearly_ bait.

He took it.

_Me: im not afraid of throwing hands with a child btw_

He waited exactly two seconds before hitting the ‘call’ button, standing on the curb as cars drove past. Being the beginning of October, it was starting to get cool out, but despite that he liked walking around in order to see everything decorated in orange and black. Despite how much he disliked his hometown, it was always a little more tolerable around the holidays.

Today he could see people already setting up decorations of spiders and zombies and ghosts. He wondered if Taejoon liked the holiday—he remembered his elaborate vampire costume from last year.

Taejoon picked up after only a few more rings. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Octavio said back, trying to sound normal, but it got harder when he remembered that this was the first time they’d talked on the phone in a while. The last time they’d talked like this, he’d been angry, and on the verge of yelling at him for something he didn’t do. He fought back that memory. “So. Thirty-two tomorrow, huh.”

“If you’re going to call me old again, I’m hanging up.” His voice sounded nice. Soothing to him, after the off feeling he'd gotten from talking to Ajay: smooth, calm, measured. The Yin to his Yang.

_You're so fucking gay._

“You said it, not me." Octavio crossed the street, dancing out of the way of several cars, who honked at him angrily.

"Are you in the middle of the street?" Taejoon asked, sounding mildly concerned.

"Yup. Why?"

"...Nothing. What's up?"

Octavio didn’t actually have a reason for calling beyond wanting to hear Taejoon’s voice. _Fuck_ , he had it bad. He opened his mouth, voice faltering, before he managed to get out,

"Nothing."

“Well...you’re coming over tomorrow, right?” The other man asked, sounding...hopeful, maybe. Octavio bit on his tongue again, which still stung from when he’d done it earlier after almost saying Taejoon’s name. After a pause that dragged on for so long Taejoon ended up saying ‘ _Octavio_?’, he replied with,

“Yep. I’m bringin' the tequila.”

“You are _not_ drinking around the baby.”

“You like to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?”

“That’s my job,” Taejoon said dryly. There was a pause as he tried to think of a witty response, but Taejoon spoke before he could. “...well. See you, then.”

“Okay,” Octavio said. Their conversation reached that dead end, but neither of them hung up or said goodbye. Octavio slowed to a stop on the sidewalk, staring at a familiar-looking café beside him. He was ninety-percent sure it was the one Mystik had taken him to. 

“Bye," Taejoon said, sounding as though he wished the conversation could keep on, but they both knew that wasn't going to happen.

“Bye.”

Still, neither of them hung up.

Octavio stared at his phone, watching the little timer that displayed how long the call took go up. He waited, and waited, and waited. When four minutes were reached, he finally hit the ‘ _end call_ ’ button. No use in wasting battery.

He kind of wished he’d spent a little while more talking, but he was afraid that the longer he listened to Taejoon talk, the more he would be inclined to say _yes_.

* * *

“Get up,” Anita’s voice said loudly, and he felt something jab harshly into his side. When he peeled his eyes open, he saw that it was her foot digging into his ribs. He winced as she did this again. "Breakfast time! You’re movin’ out today!"

Octavio groaned, rolling away from her vicious foot. “Who says I’m movin' out?”

“Me,” she said, gesturing to herself with a spatula. “Because you’re either going back to Kim’s or I’m kicking you out. I’m _sick_ of you.”

“You love me.” Octavio buried his face into his elbow. "You _miss_ me."

“This past year without you in the Games has been the most peaceful my life’s ever been.”

“The most _boring_ , too.” Octavio yawned. "Isn't some Salvonian dude currently stealing my _deranged explosive maniac_ schtick?"

Anita ignored him and bent down, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck before hauling him onto his feet. He’d fallen asleep with his legs on again, and his stubs kind of hurt because of it, but he paid this aching pain no mind as he straightened up, realizing that he smelled something very good on her.

“Chorizo?” He asked, excited, and watched Anita roll her eyes. “Aw, amiga. You _do_ love me.”

“No, I love _chorizo_.” Anita turned her back on him, walking out of the room. “ _You_ have nothing to do with it.”

Breakfast was chorizo-and-egg tacos and about three cans of Coke. He could've gone for four if Anita had not plucked it from his hands as soon as he'd popped the tab. The only reason he didn’t try to swipe it back was because she had her spatula in hand again, and he was _kind of_ afraid that she’d try to hit him with it.

Thankfully, she didn't really say anything about Taejoon as he ate, just read the morning paper like some kind of old person while nursing a cup of black coffee. It was nice having home-cooked meals for once, so he made sure to devour every bit of food she'd made for him.

Rolling up his last bit of chorizo and eggs into a corn tortilla, he folded both ends in so that none of it would spill out onto the plate. He’d just shoved half of the thing into his mouth when Anita suddenly leaned back in her chair, tossing her newspaper aside. She fixed him with a look that made him think _Uh-oh._

“So what’re you gonna do today?” She asked, casual.

He shrugged, trying to appear noncommittal, because he wasn’t really sure himself. He knew that he had to say _something_ to Taejoon when he got there, but he didn’t really know what. Or...he _did_ , but he didn’t know how easy it would be to say it. Or rather...

Well, he just didn’t fucking know. 

Anita was evidently not having that.

“Nah, Silva.” She cocked her head to the side, giving him a level stare. “You’re not doing that. You’re not leaving this house until you tell me your answer.”

“It’s kind of complicated,” Octavio murmured as he finished swallowing his bite, tearing off a chunk of tortilla and using it to gather up the remaining salsa on his plate. “Also, what happened to kicking me out regardless?”

She didn’t answer him. Just kept staring with her arms folded across her chest, and even though she was leaning back, appearing decidedly calm, he still felt somewhat threatened by her. Like if she detected all the doubt he had she would just start drilling into him.

“What is this, a therapy session? You want me to tell you all the shit that went on between us so you can hear my answer?” Octavio set down the remainder of his taco, glaring right back at her. Two could play at this heated staring match.

“It’s a yes or no question,” Anita said simply.

“It’s _not_ that easy.”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.” Anita yawned. “Okay. Do you want to get back with Kim, _yes or no?_ ”

He looked her up and down, waiting for her to add more onto her question, but she just stared back with raised eyebrows. After a moment, he said, hesitant, “Yeah.”

“Do you want to move in with him again, yes or no?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want the kid, yes or no?”

Octavio bit on his tongue. “...No.”

She smirked. “You hesitated.”

“I don’t want him.”

“ _Sure_. Anyways, that was two ‘yes’s and one ‘no’.” Anita stood up, gathering both of their plates and carrying them over to the sink. “Sounds like you _do_ have your answer.”

“You and Che are so _annoying_.” Octavio scowled, crossing his arms over the table and resisting the urge to bury his face in them like a child. “You two make it sound simple. It’s _not_.”

“Sure it is.” Anita put their dirty dishes into the dishwasher, her face scrunching up in disgust as she accidentally made contact with wet food. “If it doesn't work out, just get a divorce."

Octavio blinked. "...What?"

"If you don’t think you can do it...you could just _leave_. Divorce exists. Nobody is _chaining_ you to this.”

Octavio felt his face heat up at these words for some reason. Was it embarrassment over what she'd said that implied they would get married, or anger that she was once again making this out to be simple when it wasn't?

“Why would I say yes if I thought I was just gonna get a divorce later?" Octavio asked, trying to will the flush away from his face as he looked away from her.

“My point is this—” Anita kicked the dishwasher shut, letting out a hum of satisfaction when it closed all the way. “Quit _thinking_. Just spend some time with your son. If it doesn’t work out, then _leave_.”

“Hyeon would kick my _ass_ if I did that, though.”

“Don’t think about that. You won’t know what happens in the future if you don’t give it a shot. You keep telling yourself you’re gonna be awful so you don't even _try._ You wouldn’t last a _day_ on Gridiron, kid.”

“Did you swallow a motivational speaker on the way home?” Octavio asked, scratching his nails along the surface of her table.

“No,” Anita replied, leaning against the counter and checking the watch on her wrist. “I’m trying to get you out before noon.”

He grinned, finding the opportunity to flip this little interrogation into her instead. “Is Lob—”

“If you finish that sentence, I will tell _everyone_ that you spent the past three weeks crying yourself to sleep at my place." She jerked her head towards the front door. "See yourself out."

Octavio got to his feet with a groan, shooting her a flat look. He’d told her already that he was just going to walk to he and Taejoon’s place in order to give himself a little more time to _think_ , and she seemed eager to get rid of him now that she didn't have to drive.

Well, ‘ _think_ ’—more like just put off telling Taejoon his choice, because he was _pretty_ sure he’d made it already, and just didn’t want to come to terms with it yet. That seemed scary as fuck right now. He wasn't ready to entertain that idea and all of its consequences at the moment. He could save that for later, hopefully with alcohol involved.

“Uh.” He hesitated as he adjusted his t-shirt, tugging on the hem of it in order to avoid meeting Anita’s eyes as he deliberated on what he should say to her. She'd put up with him for these past few weeks, even though she didn't have to. That had been...nice. Something that only a friend would do. “Thanks for letting me crash. I guess.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded equally as uncomfortable with his thanks, turning to mess with the knob on the sink. “Well. I’ve got you, you know that. Just don’t do it again.”

He hesitated, wondering if she’d hit him if he tried to touch her, before deciding _fuck it_ and throwing his arms around her in a quick hug. He'd never hugged his mother before, but he wanted to think that this was what it felt like.

He let go of her before she could even react to him doing this.

“I’m leaving now bye,” he said quickly, turning his back on her and thundering up the stairs, leaving her in stunned silence.

Upstairs he grabbed his phone, wallet, and knife, which he’d swiped from their apartment in order to give himself something to do with his hands. Flipping a knife around on the streets probably wasn’t a good idea, but he felt comforted just from having it by his side. A familiar object, and an anchor to the real world

As he gathered his things Octavio noticed his reflection out of the corner of his eye. He took pause, staring at himself in the sliver of mirror that he could see. The mirror was pushed into the corner of the spare room he slept in, but he’d never bothered uncovering it, not wanting to look at himself after the whole...y’know. Giving birth ordeal. The idea had seemed daunting.

He stood up and tore the sheet covering it away now, driven by some urge to see that his body _had_ changed these past few weeks, that he _was_ starting to look normal. He made eye contact with himself before turning to the side and lifting up his shirt, observing his stomach.

His abs were barely visible, still covered by a layer of unshed fat, but aside from that he looked... _fine._ He looked similar to the way he was back in high school, before doing athletics had become a regular thing for him. The stretch marks were kind of awful, though. He adjusted his shorts, gritting his teeth when he realized that by doing this his gut seemed a bit more obvious.

He pulled his shorts back up in order to hide it, letting his shirt fall down. He turned his body again, reaching behind him to pull on his shirt and allowing it to tighten around his body to view his form through the fabric. Was it just him, or were his hips...wider?

Paranoia made him let go of his shirt, body now hidden by loose fabric. He’d hoped that by now he could cut his shirt in half like he normally did and wear it as a crop-top, but he didn’t think he would be wearing any for a couple more weeks, at least. Not with those stretch marks and...and his hips...

He felt nauseous.

 _It's not all bad,_ he tried reassuring himself as his nails dug into the inked skin of his forearm, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Despite the absolute nightmare that had been pregnancy, there was at least one good piece of news: he’d never grown his tits back like that pamphlet had said might happen. Thank fucking _god_ for miracles. If he had to sit through the recovery time for top surgery a second time, he would have gone insane.

His mind kept wandering back to his hips despite his best efforts, so he placed his hands on them and looked down at himself. _You're imagining it. You look the same. And even if not, so what?_

Well...would Taejoon balk at his changed body? What if he found the stretch marks and his wider hips unattractive? The signs of his pregnancy, the constant reminder that Octavio wasn't a cis guy? 

_If he really fucking cared he would've dumped you a_ long _time ago,_ that one reasonable part of his brain said. He nodded to himself, because he was right; Taejoon didn't care about that. It was just his old dysphoric fears making their return again.

He looked in the mirror again, scowling at what he saw. Despite telling himself that Taejoon wouldn't care, he still despised the way he looked right now. An irrational feeling of anger surged through him, at the thought of all he had gone through this past year, of the things he'd allowed to happen to his body, and he violently kicked his foot out, shattering Anita's mirror. Pieces of glass fell to the floor, littering the area around him with tiny reminders that he was an awful, selfish, spiteful person.

 _Fuck._ He'd just ruined her mirror.

He fell to his knees and began to scoop up the shards of glass, working hurriedly so that Anita wouldn't come up and yell at him. His fingers ended up getting injured in the process, staining the floor with blood. Throwing all of the pieces away in the trash, Octavio then rushed to the bathroom in order to patch himself up, trying to hide the result of his anger and the scars it would undoubtedly leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so u know how i said this chapter is supposed to be half of the previous chapter. well this chapter is half of octavio's half of last chapter because this ended up being 14k words. so technically. last chapter has been split up in 3 total parts SKSIDJSISI
> 
> good news is. new chapter in 3 days ! its done. cannot wait to finally finish dis bitch UP sorry if theres any typos. its 11 pm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the 2nd half of last chapter which was supposed to be half of chapter 3. what da Fuck
> 
> *slaps roof of octane* this baby can fit so much complicated emotional turmoil in it

Octavio left shortly after patching up his wounds, wrapping two neon pink band-aids around his fingers in order to cover the cuts there. There were a few smaller cuts at his fingertips, but they were thin and barely noticeable.

Flexing his hand out in the sunlight, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Letting his anger and frustration get to him had to become a thing of the past. If he showed up on Taejoon's doorstep angry at him, then...

He closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax. It was nice out today, warmer than yesterday, so that was good. He didn’t like the cold weather all that much, considering the fact that he liked wearing as little clothing as possible. Today was ideal 'do-crazy-shit' weather—he preferred doing his stunts outside. He _liked_ being outside.

Hand still stinging as a result of his actions, Octavio began his walk to the subway station. Alone and with nobody to talk to, his mind kept wandering to what Anita had said earlier; that if none of this worked out, he could just leave later.

 _Get a divorce_ , she’d said, even though he and Taejoon weren’t even _married_ —but he didn’t _want_ to consider that, because then he’d _definitely_ be like his dad. Octavio had told himself before entering this relationship that he _wasn’t_ him, wouldn’t go through partners at an alarming rate and let the divorce papers pile up as his father had.

Octavio didn’t want to say ‘ _yes_ ’ when there was a possibility that that would happen. He wanted to be absolutely _sure_ that they could make it work, that he loved Taejoon and was willing to do stuff for him, even stuff like...

Like...

...Who was he fucking kidding?

Octavio knew he was going to say yes. He would be a fucking _idiot_ if he tried to delude himself into thinking otherwise, and _yeah_ , he may not be the _smartest_ guy around, but he _knew_. No matter how scared he got, no matter how many circles he ran in his mind, he _knew_ what he was going to say in the end. He had somehow wound up caring deeply about another person, and he now needed to extend that care to the child he'd brought into this world.

He just wished it wasn’t freaking him out so fucking much.

The prospect of having to look after Hyunjin was fucking _terrifying._ But...he could manage it, right? It was just a kid. It couldn't even _talk_ yet. Maybe when Octavio held him again, he'd know what to do. Get that weird brain wave or whatever that would make him be a good parent. He was _pretty_ sure that was how it worked.

Then there was the thought of him having to give up a lot of the things he enjoyed. But if he was being honest, he had already been _not_ doing those things for a very long time, and while he was bored out of his goddamnned _mind_ , maybe some of that could become permanent.

The stim probably shouldn’t come back. He actually felt marginally better now that it was out of his life, even though caffeine had become his crutch. Giving his body a break from constantly having to detoxify left him with a normal appetite and sleeping patterns, as boring as that sounded. Streaming was a _must_ , and his competitions and stunts fell into that category. _Whatever_ , he and Taejoon could work out the nitty-gritty details of that later. The Games...well, those were still up in the air. He had no idea what the plan for them was.

His brain was now doing the opposite of what it had been these past few weeks: instead of running in circles with constant negative energy, it was now going counter-clockwise, filling him with foolish optimism about everything. A kid? Yeah, he could handle that. The consequences of his actions? Since when had those ever bothered _him?_ Taejoon being upset with him? He could just make up for it by putting out!

His pace had picked up as nervous—almost manic—energy surged through him, though he soon came to a halt at the sight of a bakery only thirty feet away from one of the subway entrances. There were three tall cakes displayed in the window: all high-quality and Halloween-themed, honestly more suited for a wedding than someone’s birthday. Five-tier cakes with carefully handcrafted sugar pearls and delicate icing, looking more like a decoration than something meant to be eaten. The kind of cakes he’d grown up with, because he could afford it.

He wondered if Taejoon had ever seen one like it.

Octavio walked right into the bakery without giving it much thought, brain moving too fast. He cut in line, ignoring offended gasps as he loudly asked,

“How much for a three-tier cake ready in less than an hour?”

The guy working the register didn’t seem at all that bothered by his request nor the fact that he had skipped the wait.

“A little over an hour is the fastest we could do," he said, bored. "Also, five hundred dollars.”

“Cool. I want red velvet, carrot, andddd—” Octavio paused, looking down at the little menu on the counter, which displayed several different flavors of cake. He eyed the green one, which kind of looked horrible, but it was green, and he was ninety-percent sure that green was Taejoon’s favorite color. “Pistachio.”

If the guy thought his combinations were horrible, he didn’t say anything. He just asked a few more questions, like _what color, what was the occasion, yadda yadda_ , before asking for Octavio’s card. He paid and then left, though as he stepped back out into the sun he realized that he now had an entire hour to kill before he could actually head over to Taejoon’s place. It was a good thing he hadn’t texted that he was on his way, yet, because then he’d have to ruin the surprise by telling him he’d impulse-bought him a cake and that was why it was taking so long.

He liked buying people big, extravagant, or otherwise expensive birthday gifts, just because it was funny seeing their faces when they opened it up, and he _especially_ liked gifting things to the other Legends. On Olympus, where huge costly gifts were the norm, the things he bought were never really truly outstanding. Getting Natalie an 800 dollar pair of noise-cancelling headphones, though? That shit had been pure _gold_. The look on her face when he told her the price was permanently burned into his memory.

After waiting outside the bakery for only five minutes, he grew bored and began to jog around the neighborhood in order to get rid of his excess energy. His mind was still moving quickly, and he could never stay still while that happened. It was impossible.

He was going to get back together with Taejoon, and try to be a...dad...no, father-figure?..actually that kind of sounded worse...well, _point was_ , he was going to try to be _something_ to Hyunjin. Even if that thought still freaked him the fuck out, Ajay had been _right_. If he had really thought that he didn’t want it or couldn’t do it, he would’ve just said _no_ already. Octavio wasn’t typically one to do things he didn’t want, and that honestly made him question his decision to keep the kid back then.

Had he secretly always wanted a kid?..No, probably not. When he was younger he’d entertained the thought, but it had been closely associated with the expectation that he would get married and have children so that the company could be passed down to them. That expectation had been placed on him at an early age, after it had become clear to his family that he both had no interest in being heir, nor was he fit to run the company anyway. It had made him resent the idea of having kids; the dysphoria and fear of becoming his father were just the garnish on top.

But even though he’d resented that idea back then, and didn’t want to put a stop to his current lifestyle, in the end, he’d still made the decision to have a kid. Even if he’d chickened out the moment it had been born.

And he’d kept it because he loved Taejoon.

God, that was fucking embarrassing to admit. Being _in love_ with someone, and doing stupid shit for them, shit he’d never _planned_ to do. And now he had to stick with it, because he _still_ loved him, and he would probably try to take care of the kid as best as he could because he loved _Taejoon._

_Don’t do it for me_ , he recalled Taejoon’s voice, so clearly that it was almost like he was speaking directly into his ear. _Do it for your son._

Well, he could do a bit of both. Take care of his son _for_ Taejoon, not because he felt any sort of particular connection to him yet, but because that was what _he_ wanted, and Octavio wanted _him_. It was a place to start, because he hadn't magically come to some sort of epiphany about him yet. Maybe one day he’d find Hyunjin _not terrifying_. Maybe it would become easier if he thought of his son as an extension of him, of Taejoon. Was that how parents normally thought of their kids?

Fuck. So he was really doing this, wasn’t he?

By the time he slowed to a stop in front of the bakery nearly an hour later he was sweaty and red-faced, having pushed himself to keep going and _going_ in an attempt to avoid freaking the fuck out every time he thought _I’m gonna say yes and I’m gonna have a son._

He waited at the counter impatiently for another three minutes before the cake was finally set in front of him inside a box. He snatched it up with a mumbled ‘ _gracias_ ’ and pushed out the door with his shoulder, heading straight for the subway. His stomach churned with every step he took, but it was okay. He was cool. He wasn’t gonna throw up or anything. Not yet, anyway.

Octavio managed to get a spot for both him and the cake on the train, placing it on the two empty seats beside him. He got out his phone and texted Taejoon, letting him know that he was on his way. Should he take a picture of the cake..? Nah, let it be a surprise.

By the time he got to their building his hands were starting to clam up, palms sweaty and hands shaking as he carried the cake inside. He managed to balance it against his hip as he typed the code in, twice, because he always forgot the last couple of digits, and then he was going up the elevator to the penthouse. Why did they have to live so high? 

When he got to their floor, Octavio kicked the front door a couple of times instead of knocking, so that by the time Taejoon answered he would be able to see the cake right in his face without Octavio needing to shuffle it around in his grip.

He waited. And waited. And waited some more, before kicking the door again, anxiety mounting.

_C’mon, where the fuck are you, why is the one time you don't answer..._

Finally, _finally_ , the door was opening, and then Taejoon was standing there, looking faintly surprised by the cake being shoved into his face as Octavio gasped out,

“ _Happy birthday!_ ”

Taejoon looked concerned instead of happy, placing his hand on the box and forcing it down so that he could look at Octavio's face, brows drawn together.

"Are you... _okay?_ ”

“Yeah,” Octavio said, even though he kind of did not feel okay. His voice got a little higher. “Why?”

“You’re crying,” the other man pointed out, frowning. Fuck, was he really?

Taejoon took the box from his hands then, giving Octavio the opportunity to reach up and swipe his fingers beneath his eyes. He had indeed started crying at some point, though he had no idea when that had started. Was it because of the anxiety he’d felt on his way up here? The last time he’d cried had been because of something similar, an overwhelming feeling he’d gotten when holding Hyunjin that had made him burst into tears like some kind of fucking idiot.

That manic energy he'd felt earlier that ran his brain counterclockwise was now seeping throughout the rest of his body, making him feel as though he were on edge. He watched the other man hold the door open for him while balancing the box on his hip, a silent invitation to come inside.

He followed Taejoon into the house, wondering where the kid was as he did so, because he was nowhere to be found.

"Did you walk here?" Taejoon asked as he placed the cake on the counter. Octavio nodded, before saying aloud,

"Well, I took the subway but I did run for a little bit because I stopped to get you a cake which _by the way_ that thing has three flavors but the wait was an hour long and I didn't have anything to do and I didn't want to just go back to Anita's because then she would make fun of me so I jogged a few laps around the park by her place and when it was done I—"

Before he could even finish speaking Taejoon's arms were wrapping around him tightly, hugging him in such a way that it kind of made him feel like he was being wrapped up in a snug blanket. Comforting and warm.

“Ah,” Octavio said numbly, not really knowing how to react.

Taejoon’s lips were touching the side of his neck, one hand placed on the small of his back, almost as if trying to keep him steady. When he spoke, his voice sent a shiver down Octavio’s spine as his fingers traced up his side, touch gentle.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, quiet, and everything right now seemed so _different_ than it had been last Sunday when he'd come over. Even though they’d kissed and hugged and talked then, none of it had felt as intimate, but something between them had changed. A switch had been flipped. Had they truly been slowly returning to normalcy this past week?

“I dunno,” Octavio said, voice unsteady as he raised his hands and pressed them against Taejoon’s front in a half-hearted attempt to push him off of him, but it was nice to feel him beneath his touch. He hadn’t come over here to cry, though, he’d come over here to...

To...

He slid his hands from where they had been braced against Taejoon’s chest to instead wrap them around his waist, allowing himself to loosen up and be held. Allowing himself to cling tightly to him as if he never intended to let go, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of the detergent on his shirt along with the faint smell of something else, something new. Baby powder, maybe.

That manic energy came crashing down all at once as the thought of how fucking awful he had been hit him, just as it had last week. Jealous of Taejoon’s ability to go out and do things when it had been _him_ that had felt too self-conscious to step outside, angry at him for his participation in the Games when it had ultimately been _Octavio’s_ choice to keep the baby. How generally unfair he had been to Taejoon, bitter and angry and refusing to recognize that it had been him _alone_ who had made that choice, and by saying he had done it for his boyfriend he had simply been trying to shift the blame.

 _Yes_ , he had done it _for_ Taejoon, but the other man had not been the one to make him do it. _He’d_ done it, because he had _wanted_ him, and was afraid that he would lose one of the few good things in his life that couldn’t just be bought back. He almost lost him _anyways_ , because he had run away, and yet Taejoon was still welcoming him back with open arms _despite_ the fact that Octavio had proven to be irresponsible, immature, and ultimately selfish.

 _Fuck_.

Fuck, he was...

Octavio’s fingers curled into Taejoon’s back, right between his shoulderblades as he swallowed down an unflattering noise that threatened to escape his throat. It might have been a sob, but he didn't want a repeat of last week. He'd humiliated himself enough.

“I love you,” he said, hating the way his voice sounded strained despite his best efforts. Taejoon held onto him, still tight, as he said,

“I forgive you.”

 _I didn’t say sorry_ was at the tip of his tongue, but Taejoon had adjusted their position so that they were now kissing—something brief, maybe three seconds, and completely chaste—before pulling away. One of his thumbs was rubbing circles into the small area of exposed skin on Octavio’s hip, bringing to mind his earlier anger, which felt stupid now.

“What a way to say ‘happy birthday’,” Taejoon said with a small smile, that dork-ass smile that made him feel... _something_. Octavio wiped at his eyes, trying to fight back any more threats of tears while Taejoon pulled away from him, moving to instead flip open the box sitting on the counter, getting a good look at the cake inside.

“Is this for me?”

“No, it’s for our wedding,” Octavio said, allowing sarcasm to slip into his voice in order to overpower the rest of his emotions. “ _Yes_ it’s for you, dumbass.”

Taejoon pulled a fork from one of the kitchen draws, digging it into the bottom tier of the white-and-green cake. He got himself a huge chunk, holding it up to the light as if inspecting it, before taking a bite. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“How’d you know I liked red velvet?” He asked around a mouthful.

“Because I know you,” Octavio said, not mentioning that he had only said ‘red velvet’ because it was one of the first cake flavors that had come to mind. He shook his bandaged hands out, feeling mostly normal by now, if a little... _on edge_ , though he didn’t think that was the right word. _Raw_ , maybe. He glanced around, trying to look for any sign of Hyunjin, but couldn’t see him anywhere. “Where’s, uh...”

“Sleeping,” Taejoon answered, his voice getting a little quieter as he said this. He had paused, fork hovering over the cake again, as though realizing something. Octavio watched him lower his fork quietly, before he was shifting so that he was leaning against the counter, his expression a little more serious. “You...did you...”

Octavio waited for him to speak, his nerves making their slow, but sure, return. Taejoon wasn’t looking at him, almost as if he were afraid to even ask, but he eventually forced it out.

“Have you decided what you’re doing, then?”

“Yeah,” Octavio rushed out, messing absentmindedly with his fingers. He wanted to fiddle with his knife, but wasn’t sure that the sight of it would go over well right now. “I’m, uh. I’m staying. With you.”

There was a bit of a pause as Taejoon nodded silently, still staring at some spot on the counter. He was frowning, for some reason, which couldn't be good.

“And Hyunjin,” Octavio added. Was it him, or was it getting hot in here? “So— _yes_ , I guess, that’s my answer.”

“Okay.” Taejoon ran one of his hands through his hair, shoulders heaving with a silent exhale. Octavio watched him, wondering if he had said something _wrong_ , because he’d pictured Taejoon to be a bit _happier_ when he finally said it. “That was...anticlimactic.”

“I’m sorry.” Did he fuck it up? How had he fucked it up _already_? He wanted to make a nervous joke about fireworks, a joke about maybe doing the whole thing in skywriting instead, but he didn’t think joking would work right now because he had _somehow_ already messed up, and done something _wrong,_ and—

“It’s fine.” Taejoon picked up the fork again, an almost imperceptible tremble in his fingers. “We just went so long without talking to one another, and...to hear it said so casually, just...”

Octavio's nerves were starting to make him nauseous again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Taejoon crossed the room within the blink of an eye, startling him a little as he moved to take a step back, but found his hand being grabbed before he could get very far.

“Don’t apologize,” the other man said, voice cracking in his desperation to speak quickly. “ _Please_. I’m happy you’re here. I promise.”

Octavio stared, a bit taken aback, before nodding slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax, though there was still something bundled tightly in his stomach.

“Y-yeah." He swallowed. "I think I’m just nervous. Can you believe it? _Me?_ ”

The corner of Taejoon’s mouth twitched, and the familiar sight of that meant everything in the fucking _world_ to him.

“You’re really staying, then?” Taejoon asked quietly, his palm warm against his. He watched his boyfriend turn his head towards his bedroom door, something written on his features that he couldn’t interpret. “For him?”

“Yeah,” Octavio said, even though he was still really fucking nervous about that; his voice was starting to sound strained again. “But for _you_ , too. I mean, I _know_ you said do it for him too, and I _am_ , I want—I want to be better, but _you_ —I love you. I’m doing this for you because I—”

_Don’t say it. Don’t say it, you fucking idiot._

“—because I need you, Taejoon.”

He wanted him, _needed him_. Without him, he wouldn't have realized he could be more than just a daredevil, that there could be something _more_ adrenaline-inducing than nearly killing himself. Without him, he wouldn't have realized that he was capable of love, of _being_ loved, because he was so sure Taejoon loved him _back,_ Ajay's words ringing in his ears.

They stared at each other, and Octavio swore he could see something in Taejoon’s eyes now. Tears, maybe, something raw and emotional and on the cusp of spilling over, but held back by the calm and collected exterior he always portrayed to him, even though Octavio _knew_ he was capable of snapping, of getting angry or upset. 

Octavio turned his palm over in Taejoon’s loose grip so that he could thread their fingers together, words burning at the back of his throat, but before any of them could explode out of him there was a sudden knock on the front door, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin in surprise.

“ _Who_ —?” He sputtered, annoyed, as Taejoon crossed the room to open the door. His question was immediately answered: Natalie and Ramya stood at their doorstep, side-by-side and dressed casually. Ramya had what looked like an empty litter box in hand, and squirming in Natalie’s arms was Taejoon’s cat, Cat.

“Happy birthday!” They both said in unison, as if they had practiced, though Ramya’s voice came across as considerably less excited than Natalie’s. 

“We got you a gift!” Natalie said cheerfully, holding Cat out towards Taejoon.

“I told her it’s not _really_ a gift if it’s just us giving you the cat back,” Ramya said, dry. “So I got you a gift card, too.”

“Uh, thanks, Ramya,” Taejoon said, sounding a little awkward, because she was more Octavio’s friend than his. “What’s the gift card for?”

She blew a bubble with her gum and then popped it. “Victoria’s Secret.”

There was a long pause.

“Someone tried using it to pay for a commission, once,” she explained. “I told them no and kicked 'em out. Kept the thing though.”

“Thank you.” Taejoon took a step back, as if about to invite them inside. Octavio got a good look at his face, then—all of the emotion from before had fled, leaving behind normal, almost stoic Taejoon. He felt strangely empty after realizing this. “I...have cake?”

“Can _we_ have some?” Natalie asked, smiling wide as she stepped inside. “Pardon us for intruding, but we came because we thought it was awful that Octa—”

She turned her head right as she said this, and when she finally noticed that he was in the room he watched her blue eyes widen and her cheeks darken. 

“...a-awful that Octavio...was, ah...” She stood there, fists clenched by her sides, before finishing: “Not here.”

“Hi,” Octavio said, giving a small wave. He felt kind of awkward, now. He looked from Natalie’s reddening face to Ramya, who was chewing on her gum silently, eyebrows raised. He supposed she must know about their situation if Natalie did too, and tried not to feel humiliated. “I’m here. Ta-da.”

The four of them stood in a circle awkwardly, none of them saying anything for about a solid ten seconds as they all exchanged glances. The one who broke the silence ended up being Ramya.

“Show me the bloody tyke,” Ramya said while Natalie gave a little squeal. “She will _not_ shut up about it. I’ve been hearing about his _cute little toesies_ for a week."

“He’s sleeping right now,” Taejoon said, tipping his head in apology. “I want him to stay that way.”

“Fine by me.” Ramya gestured to the cake, tone now brighter. “So mate, what flavor?”

“Red velvet.” Taejoon looked towards Octavio suddenly. “The other tiers are different, right?”

“Middle should be carrot and top is pistachio,” Octavio answered, cracking his knuckles in order to give his hands something to do. Ramya rubbed her own hands together at his words, grinning around her mouthful of gum at the mention of pistachio.

Taejoon began to cut her a slice, and while those two were preoccupied Natalie rounded on Octavio, her cheerful demeanor all but gone as she faced him. She opened her mouth, pausing, before telling him quickly,

“You hurt Hyeon’s feelings. I am not very happy with you.”

Octavio wanted to point out the fact that she had also been kind of a dick towards Taejoon at one point, but he supposed that giving someone the silent treatment differed from abandoning your boyfriend and child on the street. He bit on his lip, wondering what to say, because they normally got along really well—but then Natalie was stepping away from him, now by Ramya’s side as she gestured to the red velvet part of the cake.

Taejoon cut her a piece of cake, a little smaller than Ramya's, before shifting his attention to Octavio.

“You want a slice?” Taejoon asked him, his fork already braced against the untouched carrot cake tier. The fact that he had correctly guessed Octavio’s preferred flavor made him feel something strange in his chest. He glanced towards the girls, seeing them enjoying their own cake and giggling between themselves, before nodding.

He watched Taejoon cut him a slice, wishing that they were alone to talk, like they had been before the others had barged in. As he watched the other man's careful hands he suddenly noticed a tail flicking out of the corner of his eye, and looked down to see Cat brushing up against his legs, looking up at him with green eyes. He seemed to remember Octavio from his brief visits at Taejoon’s apartment before he’d been given to Natalie.

"Hi," he said quietly. Cat blinked slowly, before turning tail and scampering off. Eh. He was more of a rabbit person anyway.

“Thanks,” he said as Taejoon handed him his slice, their fingers brushing together for a brief moment. He felt heat beneath his skin at this contact, but before he could do anything about it Taejoon had already turned away from him in order to get himself a plate.

The four of them ate around the counter, talking while trying to ignore the slightly awkward air, overcast like heavy weather. Forced smalltalk that sort of reminded him of attending his father’s dinner parties and being made to interact with the other children of billionaires, though this time it was almost worse because he actually _knew_ these people and was friends with them.

"How old are you turning, again?" Ramya asked around a mouthful of pistachio cake.

"Thirty-two," Taejoon and Natalie said at the same time.

Ramya smirked. "So you're an _old_ sod, then."

"Hag," Octavio supplied.

"Oh, definitely."

"I can and will kick you both out," Taejoon threatened.

As time went on the air got a little lighter between them, until Ramya was whipping out a stack of Uno cards that she apparently carried everywhere, because ‘ _you never know_ ’. The four of them sat in a circle in the living room, Octavio on the floor with his legs spread wide while Ramya sorted the cards between all of them. He caught Taejoon studying him out of the corner of his eye, but then Ramya was loudly declaring that Taejoon would get to go first, since it was his birthday.

"I don't really care who gets to go first," Taejoon mumbled, picking up his cards. "Natalie?"

"No, mon ami, I insist you go first!" She encouraged. The game started slow at first, but it soon ramped up in intensity as Octavio and Ramya's competitive spirits kicked in.

“Can we stack?” Octavio asked as he eyed the ‘draw two’ card Natalie had just set down. He had a ‘draw four’ in his deck, and was prepared to send Ramya straight to hell with it.

“‘Course you can,” the younger woman said lightly from her spot on the couch. “I will consider this an act of war, however.”

“Cool.” Octavio set the ‘draw four’ down with an evil grin. “ _Six_.”

“Pity,” Ramya hummed, her cards held in one hand while her pointer finger hovered over each one dramatically. “ _Pity_ that you would contribute to your man’s downfall like this.”

She plucked a card from her deck and slammed it down on top of the stack. “Draw _ten_ , Kim.”

“I think I hear Hyunjin crying,” Taejoon said flatly, getting to his feet, while Natalie giggled beside him, hiding her face behind her cards.

“You’re drawing ten when you get back! There’s no way you’re gettin' out of this!” Ramya called as he disappeared into his room. Being left alone with the girls reminded him of the fact that they both _knew_ what had he done, and though Ramya hadn't said anything he was sure that she was silently judging him from her spot on the couch.

Taejoon came back only a few minutes later, though it felt like an eternity to him. Hyunjin still nowhere to be found.

The older man drew ten cards with a long-suffering sigh, adding onto his already large stack. The game continued for another fifteen minutes, Octavio growing antsy with every passing second, until he was able to throw his second-to-last card down and declare 'Uno’.

He needed a green or a three to win the game. To his immense luck, Natalie set down a red three, and he smacked his card on top of it and threw his hands up in triumph. He stuck his tongue out at Ramya, who had been talking shit for the past couple of turns. She groaned, reaching into her pocket in order to pull out another stick of gum while Natalie gathered up the rest of everyone's cards. 

The Uno games Octavio normally played had all the players continue going even after someone had gotten rid of all their cards, but he was glad at the difference here, because it meant that the girls would be leaving sooner rather than later. He tried to catch Taejoon’s eye again, but it seemed like the other man was deliberately not looking at him.

“I think we better get goin’ if we wanna have dinner at a reasonable time,” Ramya said while Natalie cooed at Cat from the floor. She straightened up then, dusting off her pants as she pouted at her girlfriend.

“I did not even get to hold Hyunjin,” she said, sounding very disappointed. “When can _we_ have a baby?”

Octavio swore that Ramya blanched at these words. “Ask me again in five years.”

Taejoon thanked them both for coming, Octavio lingering near the couch as he watched his boyfriend say goodbye to them. Natalie hugged him, whispering something that Octavio couldn’t hear, before pulling away and taking her girlfriend’s hand into hers. With a wave, they were both finally, _finally_ gone, leaving the two of them alone.

Octavio watched Taejoon for a moment, studying his back—the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist. The part of his hair that was normally shaved, his undercut, had grown out these past few months, leaving Taejoon looking a little less... _him_. He wasn’t the same cool, clean-cut guy who refused to talk to everyone on the dropship, hiding behind his collar and glaring at everyone who approached. He looked softer.

Octavio approached him, his hand reaching out in order to run his fingers through that part that he had never seen grown out like this before. It wasn’t shaggy by any means—still relatively short, but just not shaved. He liked being able to run his fingers through his hair.

Taejoon didn’t react much to him touching him like this, just tilted his head a bit to the side.

"They were...a lot," he murmured. Octavio raised his eyebrows.

"Nat and Rami?"

"Yes." Taejoon sighed, closing his eyes. "I...I don't want to deal with any more people today."

"Sorry?" He wondered if that applied to him too, but Taejoon didn't say anything more about it, just pulled his phone from his jeans pocket in order to check the time. He then turned to look at Octavio and asked, "Help me feed Hyunjin?”

Octavio swallowed heavily, pulling his hand away from him. Taejoon frowned at this motion, causing Octavio to curse at himself silently. _Stupid._ He couldn’t hesitate like that anymore. He could handle an infant, couldn’t he? He _had_ to. He must.

Still, despite his earlier convictions that he _could_ do it, he felt the lingering sense paranoia and terror that had been plaguing him for months now. The thought of interacting with Hyunjin was...

_Stop thinking like that._

“Yeah,” he finally answered, forcibly casual, and followed Taejoon swiftly into their room. He eyed the unmade bed, wondering if they would sleep in it together or if they would both still be in this uncomfortable stage by the time night fell. His eyes flickered back to Taejoon, who was trying to wake Hyunjin as gently as possible, fingers nudging his chest and then his face.

Hyunjin opened his eyes slowly, sniffling and letting out short little whines before he had even fully woken. Fuck, was he going to be crying? Octavio would _definitely_ not be able to handle him if he was upset, because if he was already crying before being held then how was he supposed to know if he was making it _worse_ or—

“You feed him, and I’ll do the gross stuff,” Taejoon murmured, carrying Hyunjin out the room. He followed numbly behind, feet dragging across the floor. “You’re going to have to learn how to do the gross stuff too, though.”

“Y-yeah,” Octavio said, flinching at his own stutter. Taejoon paused in the kitchen, before turning to face him, his expression unreadable.

“Hold him so I can make a bottle.”

Octavio tried not to flinch again when holding out his arms for him, entire body stiff as Hyunjin was placed slowly into them. He adjusted his hold in order to cradle his head more proficiently, like Taejoon had showed him last time, but in doing this he couldn’t really see the kid’s face. Hyunjin continued letting out short whines against him—not quite crying, yet, but it was still enough to make him nervous.

He watched Taejoon prepare a bottle of formula with quick, practiced motions, moving as if he were hardly giving it any thought. By the time he was done, Octavio was already feeling way out of his element. The other man seemed to have gotten the basics down already, no hesitation or moments of deliberation, nor was there any undercurrent of fear. How could he do this and not be the least bit afraid?

“You should probably sit down,” Taejoon suggested, and guided Octavio onto the couch with Hyunjin still in his arms. He sat carefully, gripping the baby tightly to make sure his hold didn't loosen. “Tilt the bottle, don’t just hold it straight up. You’ll choke him.”

“Can’t _you_ feed him?” Octavio asked, because _what the fuck do you mean I could choke him._ Taejoon shot him a look, lips downturned, so Octavio stopped complaining, clenching his jaw instead. He took the bottle being offered to him and adjusted Hyunjin in his arms, trying to hold him like he had seen Taejoon do last week. It was actually a bit harder than it looked—his arm was already starting to ache from the position it was in, and fear was still sinking its teeth into his flesh.

_Calm down, Silva. It's just a baby._

He felt Taejoon’s eyes on him as he tilted the bottle slowly, trying to get the rubber tip of it into Hyunjin’s mouth. His face was still screwed up, on the verge of even more tears, but it quickly relaxed as soon as Octavio finally managed to get him to latch onto it, clearly hungry.

“Slow,” Taejoon said suddenly, making him jump. The other man reached over, placing his fingers on Octavio’s hand and adjusting the position of it. The pads of his fingers brushed against the bright pink band-aids at the base of Octavio's fingers until he was finally satisfied. He sat back and watched Octavio feed Hyunjin, which made him feel awkward again, almost embarrassed. He didn’t really know why. Was it because he’d never pictured himself doing this, and now he _was_? How ridiculous did he look right now? Was Taejoon laughing at him?

Hyunjin was staring up at him as he fed him, making weird sucking noises. Octavio really. Did not like this. At _all_. Didn’t like that the kid was staring at him, either. Didn’t like that he and Hyunjin’s eyes were very close in color. Didn’t like that he looked an awful lot like him, and like _Taejoon_ , too. Which, _yeah duh,_ but—

“You don’t like it,” Taejoon mumbled. Not a question, but a statement. Octavio flinched, trying to think of something to say, a good enough lie to explain why he was staring down at an infant with a sour expression, but nothing came to mind. All he felt right now was...awkwardness. Bitterness, almost, because he’d never pictured himself doing this. Discomfort. 

That wasn’t _normal_ , was it? Weren’t people supposed to be, like, in love with their babies? Wasn’t there some kind of like...Parent Hormone or whatever that got released when you held a baby? Why wasn’t he feeling any of that? Why didn’t he feel connected to the kid? _His_ kid?

He’d distantly hoped that all of his troubles regarding Hyunjin would fade by the second or third time he held him, that _something_ would forge between them once that parental instinct (if he ever had one) kicked in. But holding him, feeding him, studying his features...

He just didn’t feel anything yet. Nothing _good_ , anyway.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Octavio said, hating the fact that his voice sounded fucking _off_. Taejoon’s lips turned down even more as he said this, making him feel panicked. _You’ve been back for less than a day and you're_ already _fucking up._ He opened his mouth to theorize, but Taejoon cut him off before he could even think one up.

“You never held him. There was no skin-to-skin contact.” Taejoon’s voice sounded flat, like he was reading something off a piece of paper rather than conversing with him. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with you. You just didn’t bond with him.”

Oh. So. Leaving might have actually, royally, fucked him over. Was there _any_ point in trying, then, or could a bond be forged later on down the line? He knew it wasn't _impossible—_ good step-parents and adoptive parents existed—but he was neither of those things.

“I’m sorry,” Octavio ended up saying, hot shame burning beneath his cheeks. He had the feeling he would be experiencing that a lot, which he fucking hated; he normally didn't care enough to feel shame.

Taejoon shifted on the cushions so that he was now huddling a little closer to him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, around Octavio. He used his other hand to adjust the position of Hyunjin's bottle again. The milk was almost gone. Kid drank fast.

"Knife?" Taejoon asked, tapping the back of his bandaged fingers questioningly.

"Mirror," Octavio answered, not wanting to get into the exact details.

"Why?"

Bitter memories resurfaced, but he tried hard to sound light as he said, "I don't like me."

It had been intended as a joke, but still the older man repeated,

"Why?" 

Bringing up his dysphoria had the potential to start an argument if Taejoon thought he was being blamed, so Octavio came up with a flimsy non-answer: "Same reason as you?"

They fell into an awkward silence after that, Taejoon staring at Octavio's injured hand. The bottle was taken from him once the formula had disappeared, Taejoon leaning forward to place it on the coffee table. He thought the other man was about to take Hyunjin from his arms too, but he just sat back once again, one arm still around Octavio and now looking down at the kid held against Octavio’s chest.

How mad would Taejoon get if he tried to shift Hyunjin towards him? Didn’t he need to be burped? Don’t babies vomit after being fed, or something? Before he could ask any questions, though, Taejoon was saying,

“I tried not to think about you.”

Octavio glanced towards him at these words. Their faces were very close together, but Taejoon was still staring at Hyunjin, as if avoiding having to make eye contact with him. Was Taejoon about to tell him how much he'd come to hate him these past few weeks? He did not think he would be able to handle that at this very moment with their son in his arms.

“Okay,” he eventually said, quiet, because he didn’t really know how to respond.

“It was hard not to, though." Taejoon had a discernible, haunting look of sadness in his eyes. Well, maybe not exactly _sadness—_ his wounds seemed much, much deeper than that. "Especially when I looked at him."

He watched his boyfriend raise his hand slowly, nudging one of Hyunjin’s with his pointer finger. The kid wrapped his own tiny fingers around it, eyes wandering around in search for his father. When they finally landed on Taejoon he made a little babbling noise and tried to bring Taejoon’s finger into his mouth. It was...cute.

"I don't hate you, Octavio."

_Oh._

Octavio felt fingers card through his hair as he watched Hyunjin, their touch gentle against his skin. Taejoon was using his free hand to run his fingers smoothly over his scalp in a repetitive motion, like Octavio had done to him earlier. His knees were turned towards Octavio by this point, the other man all but leaning against him as he moved his hand from Hyunjin's grasp to instead splay his fingers across Octavio's sternum. He felt Taejoon shift until his forehead was now resting against his shoulder, the fingers in his hair slowing to a stop.

“You’re not going to disappear, are you?” Taejoon’s voice was nearly a whisper, a low noise that made Octavio ache. He was hit with that same guilt and shame he’d felt earlier, feelings that were becoming increasingly less foreign to him, and he hated them.

Taejoon’s fingers slid from his hair to his jaw, cupping his face at an awkward angle, as if just trying to _feel_ him without rhyme or reason. Octavio reached up to touch the hand on his cheek, hesitant.

“You’re going to stay." Not a question, or even that much of a statement. Just words of reassurance.

“I am,” Octavio said anyways. He didn’t know what to do with Taejoon acting like this, so... _vulnerable_ , almost, instead of calm and collected. Taejoon had been emotional with him before, but it had always felt somewhat controlled, like he was parting the curtains on his life just enough to allow Octavio to peek through. This time it felt like those curtains had simply been torn down, leaving Taejoon exposed, and Octavio didn’t know what to do about it.

His boyfriend took a deep, shuddering breath, as if on the verge of breaking down, of going into hysterics, but he never lifted his face from Octavio’s shoulder. His hand dropped from Octavio’s face to his other shoulder, practically hanging off of him by this point. Clinging to him, as if afraid that Octavio would fall through his fingertips.

"Don't go." The crack in the older man's voice was heart-rending. "I need you."

His words felt like echoes of the things he'd wished he'd said that day, and Octavio had the feeling that they would haunt him for a very long time after this, eyes burning and a heavy feeling settling in the back of his throat.

They sat like that for a few more minutes until Hyunjin made a little noise in Octavio's arms. Taejoon finally let his hands drop, pulling away from Octavio slowly and instead reaching for their son. Octavio tried to get a good glimpse of his face then, but it seemed like Taejoon was deliberately tilting his head in such a way that his hair was falling into his eyes, though did manage to eventually get a glimpse of them—they were red, wet, but there were no tear tracks down his face, so he had yet to allow them to fall.

Taejoon stood up and left the room with Hyunjin in his arms, perhaps to go...burp him, or whatever it was that babies did after being fed. Octavio rested his palms on his metal knees, body stiff as he fought back every urge he had to either cry or do something like jump on the couch or slide down the banister. His nerves had churned into energy, energy that he had no outlet for yet, because he didn’t think Taejoon would like it if he went bouncing off the walls right now.

What was Octavio supposed to _do?_ This wasn’t really turning out like he had thought it would. Well, he didn’t know _what_ he had thought would happen, but...maybe a happy ending? Some kind of big, explosive moment where Taejoon swept him off his feet and he fell in love with Hyunjin and they lived happily ever after as a family?

After all the grief Octavio went through trying to make this decision, was it going to turn out that he was simply incapable of being a good partner or father at all? Was he really just going to _become_ his father, in terms of both being a parent and a husband-slash-boyfriend?

 _Fuck_. Maybe he _had_ made the wrong choice, even after all that grief. And not just the wrong choice for him—for Taejoon, too, because he _wasn’t_ cut out for this. In fact, he’d _known_ already that he wasn’t cut out for so, which was why he had spent weeks agonizing over it—so _why_ had he come here? Why had he said _yes_? Why was Taejoon allowing him to _stay_? Was he really _that_ desperate to have Octavio back?

He almost wished for the Taejoon of last week to make his return, or the Taejoon of that one phone call they'd had. The Taejoon who had been almost short with him, clearly tired of the fact that Octavio was stringing him along. He at least knew how to handle _that_ Taejoon.

And speak of the devil, here he came, walking out of the bedroom and looking...normal. No signs of tears, or being upset, or...anything.

Just normal Taejoon. 

“Want to watch a movie?” The other man asked. His voice also sounded completely normal. He'd done away with the curtains, and instead built a steel wall.

He dug his nails into the rubber part of his leg that connected to the socket, fighting back the urge to tell Taejoon that he’d changed his mind. He was just being stupid and panicking like an idiot. He couldn't leave him _again_. He had so much to make up for, redemption to claw towards. He couldn't run away. He didn't _want_ to. 

He just wanted Taejoon to stop hurting.

“Sí," he eventually said, and his boyfriend sat beside him on the couch, this time a good distance away from him. Not enough to make it seem as though he didn’t want Octavio interacting with him, but not as close as he had been before.

He reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flicking through the channels until he settled on some action flick that Octavio had seen about ten times before. 

The suggestion of a movie made it seem as though Taejoon was done with talking for the evening. Maybe they’d reached some kind of limit, or he just didn’t want to address this situation anymore. Maybe he was just trying to force things to go back to normal, return to the casual banter they'd managed to strike up again. Should Octavio go along with it and pretend that he wasn’t bothered? That he didn’t have doubts? That there wasn't remorse boiling inside of him, so much that it made him feel actually, physically sick?

Octavio wasn’t really paying attention to the movie by this point, too preoccupied with every emotion he'd felt in the past twelve hours, but as it dragged on he became more and more compelled to also act like everything was normal, if that was what Taejoon wanted. He hesitated though, wondering what he would do if he ended up being rejected, before pushing that thought of his mind. He would recover. He wasn’t a fucking baby.

He scooted closer to Taejoon until he could comfortably lean against him, lifting his legs onto the couch until he was practically laying on it. He let his head rest against Taejoon’s chest, keeping his eyes focused on the movie, though acutely aware of every single second that passed without any sort of reaction from the other man.

He felt Taejoon shift beneath him, and then an arm was wrapping around his shoulders. Octavio let his fingers curl into Taejoon’s shirt, bunching the soft material into his hand. He wondered if he should say anything, or if silence would be better. Maybe the latter was true, but if he didn't say anything he felt like he would burst into tears again, and he was tired of doing that.

“I love you,” he said quietly, testing the waters. Allowing himself to say it as genuinely as he could, no jokes or forced casualness or anything like that.

Taejoon’s fingers drifted from his shoulder up to his hair again, sliding his fingers through it in order to bring Octavio’s head closer to his body. He felt his boyfriend kiss his hairline.

“I love you too,” Taejoon responded, and they fell into careful silence after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this fic like hey google how do i make 2 emotionally constipated characters talk about their feelings nd shit
> 
> i said i was gonna post thjis wednesday but only 2 ppl read this fic so FUCK IT siri and sol this is for yall. lub u

**Author's Note:**

> hiii, title for series and fics taken from:  
>  _Go where you need to  
>  Know I won't leave you  
> I'll follow you like morning follows night  
> You can run 'til your pain's through  
> One thing I won't do  
> Is to let you go alone to face the fight_


End file.
